


Flying Colours

by LadyJanus



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-06-10 06:28:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 50,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6943573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJanus/pseuds/LadyJanus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after the destruction of the Colonies, <i>Galactica</i> finds <i>Voyager</i>. This story takes place three years after the events in Endgame, up to the point where Janeway asks where the next corridor will take them and is told "back to the delta quadrant".</p><p>Written for bantha_fodder's BSG/Crossover ficathon on LiveJournal back in 2006. An expansion on my earlier short story <i>Working Lunch</i>. Originally posted to my LadyJanus page on LiveJournal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Working Lunch

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine ... just playing.
> 
> Spoilers: For BSG - to Lay Down Your Burdens Part I; for ST:Voyager - to Endgame and beyond! Everything is definitely AU.
> 
> Author's Note: For my purposes, Laura wins the election and New Caprica never happens! Take it from there. _Voyager_ gets a whopper of a makeover, namely that they end up not in the alpha quadrant, but in the delta quadrant near the beta quadrant border at the end of the last episode and have been travelling for an additional three years. They're currently in the beta quadrant now. 
> 
> This was a plot bunny that had been going around in my head for a while, since I stopped writing _Voyager_ fics. I wanted the show to be more about Janeway and the rest of the cast instead of just Seven, TPTB's favourite _deus ex machina_ and the lower decks get some new alien denizens. I hope that the changes will be well explained as you read the story.
> 
> It is also an expansion of an earlier Roslin/Adama short story I'd written for Battlestar Galactica called _Working Lunch_ , which was just a small vignette or scene really.
> 
> Finally, as I indicated in the summary, this was written for bantha_fodder's BSG/Crossover ficathon on LiveJournal back in 2006, in response to a prompt by regencyg, who requested a pairing of Janeway/Adama, Sr. or Janeway/Roslin. However, it ended up being a Roslin/Adama, Sr. fic with mainly Janeway/Roslin friendship, but a bit of Janeway/Adama as well. And there is also some bonding among the two crews. Enjoy!
> 
> Prompt: _Galactica_ stumbles into the Delta Quadrant and meet _Voyager_ , Bill and Kathryn bond over the demands of keeping everyone safe. Or Kathryn and Laura bond over being women in charge. Or both.

Admiral William Adama looked at President Laura Roslin, who sat sprawled on the other end of the couch in his quarters. She glanced at him from beneath half-lowered lids.

 

“What?” he asked curiously. “Do I have food on my face?” The remainder of their humble lunch was spread out on the low coffee table.

 

He frowned at her barely-touched sandwich; she’d eaten the soup, which he was grateful for, but had only managed a quarter of the frillfish sandwich. Though she’d lost some of that gaunt look from the ravages of fighting cancer, she was still thinner than he’d like and her continued lack of appetite concerned him. That was why he’d started scheduling these working lunches.

 

The cancer was thankfully now in remission due to Baltar’s unorthodox treatment using the Cylon hybrid child’s blood. Neither Baltar nor Cottle could explain what exactly this _treatment_ had done to his satisfaction and though he was grateful that Laura had not died, William was leery of thinking of it as a cure. _Cures_ often lead to complacency … loss of vigilance and he could not afford to lose vigilance--not where _her_ life was concerned.

 

She turned to face him, moving with that same feline grace that had captivated him from their first meeting, though he’d hidden it for months.

 

“We’re going to have to stop these lunches, William,” she said, startling him until he saw her impish smile, “and especially just before a scheduled jump. Rumour has it that Admiral Adama, Supreme Commander of the Fleet and the Battlestar _Galactica_ , has been ravishing the President of the Twelve Colonies in here.”

 

 _“Lords of Kobol!”_ he roared. “Have people nothing better to do?”

 

Her expression was serious now. “For good or ill, love,” she replied gently. “We are their leaders and much as I hate to admit it, our lives are not our own. People will speculate and we haven’t exactly taken any pains to conceal our relationship.”

 

“I’m on duty, for Kobol’s sake,” he said. “When would we find time for frakking? We jump in less than four hours!”

 

“Yes, dear,” she said with that infuriating smile again. “And what do you think most civilians and probably quite a few of your off-duty people are doing right now?” she asked sweetly with a low chuckle. “I don’t have any hard statistics, but I expect that the incidence of _frakking_ shoots up exponentially just before a jump.” She laughed at his sour expression. “It’s only human. Why do you think we had such a spike in the number of births eight months ago?”

 

He looked blank and she laughed harder.

 

“What?” he demanded peevishly.

 

“You men!” she snorted. “Think of the dates, love. The numbers spiked because exactly nine months previously we were running for our lives, jumping every thirty-three minutes. People were scared--any minute the Cylons could jump in and wipe them from existence! They needed something life-affirming, they needed to feel alive,” she said gently as he clasped her hand. “And I know of nothing more life-affirming than making love.”

 

She scooted closer and laid her head against his chest. He stroked her auburn mane with his free hand.

 

“And if everyone is doing it, they assume we must be too,” he said chuckling.

 

He loved this smart, wonderful woman and there were moments when his heart ached at the thought of just how close he came to losing her without ever really knowing her. He had been of two minds whether to object to her running for President again, but there was no choice; Baltar or Zarek would have been a disaster. He was glad she hadn’t allowed herself to be manipulated by Baltar and the Geminese religious brigade into compromising her stance on human rights, and more importantly, women’s rights.

 

She’d won by only a slim margin, but she’d won and continued to lead them to Earth, avoiding the Baltar’s trap of paradise baited with a-- _barely-habitable_ (in his opinion)--planet they could settle on. Laura had pulled every political and rhetorical trick she had in her arsenal to remind their war-weary civilian population of the need to keep mobile and ahead of the Cylons. Through the force of her will, she had shut down the lunatic fringe that wanted to _make peace_ \--he grimaced at the thought--with the Cylons and reminded the people what the price would be of letting their guards down where Cylons were concerned; complete extermination of the human species.

 

William lifted her chin and kissed her gently. As he deepened the kiss, she pulled back, blue-grey eyes dancing with desire and mirth.

 

“Which is why we can’t,” she admonished gently and he sighed. “Anyway, you’re on duty,” she reminded him, lifting his hand to her lips and planting a kiss on the palm. He felt a renewed stirring of his desire as the tip of her pink tongue darted out licked the sensitive pad of his thumb tracing her lips. “And I’m not about to scramble for a quickie when I can have you all night. Besides, I’m not Starbuck or Dualla, and I’m too old for this couch-- _we’re_ both way too old for this couch.”

 

His laughter was cut off by the klaxon’s blare and she jumped. He squeezed her hand reassuringly; they rose without a word. At the door, he let her hand go and she followed him to the Combat Information Centre.

 

 _Galactica's_ executive officer, Colonel Saul Tigh, looked up as they approached. But as he submerged himself in his XO’s situation report and the activity of the command centre, William spared a silent invocation to the Lords of Kobol to keep Laura safe as she took up her usual position out of the way towards the back of CIC.

 

Adama studied the updated DRADIS report from Lieutenant Gaeta; a Cylon Basestar had just jumped into the system and was approximately eight minutes out.

 

“Are all ships ready to jump?”

 

“Ready as they’ll ever be, Sir,” Tigh replied dourly. “The last of the repairs on _Rising Star_ and _Oracle_ were finished twenty minutes ago and all have been updated on the jump coordinates.”

 

Adama nodded. “Recall the CAP and start the jump clock,” he ordered.

 

The minutes ticked down inexorably. Dualla reported that the Viper patrol had landed and gave the all secure on the flight deck as the jump engines spiralled up on a single exquisite note Adama never heard but felt through the deck plates which conducted it through his bones.

 

_“Execute jump!”_

 

William Adama lifted his gaze to meet Laura Roslin’s as the universe winked out.

 

#

 

“Status,” Adama requested as they returned to normal space and he felt the familiar disorientation in his gut.

 

He waited patiently until Dualla gave “the all present and accounted for.” He was about to give Tigh the order to start patrols when Gaeta’s frantic voice stopped him.

 

"Admiral!" shouted the navigator. "There's some kind of incredible energy wave or … or _something_ bearing down on us incredibly fast!"

 

Adama’s mind barely had a moment to wrap around the concept of an energy wave when it hit, and there was no time to rail uselessly at the unfairness of the universe. He only had a moment to look into Laura's eyes and mourn, when his world blew apart.

 

 _All of it was for nothing_ , came his last thoughts, _I’ve led fifty thousand people to their deaths_ …

 

#

 

Laura Roslin opened her eyes as she felt a pair of strong arms around her and saw bodies sprawled on the deck. As a marine helped her up, she realised that the bodies were moving.

 

"Report!" Adama barked as Colonel Tigh helped him to stand.

 

"Only a few casualties being reported so far, Sir," Tigh replied briskly. "But everything has gone into emergency shut down mode; we have no engines--we don't even have reaction thrusters. At best engineering reports that they may be able to get thrusters up within a half an hour, but they'll have to get back to us on that--"

 

"What about the other ships?" he asked impatiently; Laura steeled herself for the worst.

 

"I have them on DRADIS, Sir," called Gaeta. "I've got confirmation on sixty-three ships and a possible on eight others. I'm still trying to clean up the data as best I can, but DRADIS is intermittent because of some kind of interference. However, one of those confirmed has to be _Pegasus_ \--it looks like we've been incredibly lucky."

 

Laura Roslin breathed again. "I'd say we were more than incredibly lucky,” she said glancing up at Adama, “miraculously lucky would be a better term.”

 

“Well, do your best to locate those other ships and scan the area for Cylons,” Adama continued, “and let’s hope this luck continues to hold out." As the young man bent over his instruments again, Adama moved on to communications. "Let's have some good news at communications, Dee," he said. The young woman looked up at her with a hint of disappointment.

 

"No can do, Sir," she replied regretfully. "Whatever that was played holy havoc with most of the comm system--external ship to ship communications is out until we can get enough power to the transmitters, but we've already got intra-ship system on-line. I have an idea, though,” she said and he nodded for her to continue. “I’d like to head down to the flight deck to see how the Raptors’ systems fared, Sir--they're made for long-distance communication and they were off-line when the incident happened, so they should be okay. But even if we can't get them into space, I hope I can at least get their comms active--their transmitters would be powerful enough. Then I should be able to relay messages to the other ships and hope their comm techs think to use their Raptor and shuttle systems as well."

 

"I'll consider that good news, Dee," he said smiling. "Get to it and bring me some more good news."

 

"Aye, aye, Sir," she said with a grin before rushing off.

 

"Weapons status," he called.

 

"No power to the guns," Tigh answered with a worried frown. "Damage Control reports that the teams are trying to get the missile batteries on-line--we can’t even get the Vipers out. Chief Tyrol’s teams are trying to bring flight deck ops back on line--"

 

"Well they'd better expedite, Colonel!" Gaeta called, looking up pale-faced from his scanners.

 

Laura felt the young man’s despair cut through her like a knife.

 

"It looks like our luck just ran out, Sir,” he said looking up at Adama; Roslin ventured closer. “Two Cylon basestars just came into DRADIS range. By their course and the amount of acceleration they're pulling, they've detected us. Even if they're only coming to investigate that wave or whatever it was, there’s no way they could _not_ have seen us. And the ones we left behind at the previous co-ordinates may jump in at any moment--"

 

"Colonel Tigh," Adama said thickly. "Get Chief Claussen on the line--we need those batteries yesterday."

 

"Yes Sir," Tigh replied soberly as he turned to his task.

 

Laura looked around the CIC, trying not to let her rising despair show; perhaps she should have left, but she couldn’t. It was selfish, but she couldn’t leave William to face it alone and he would never let his people face this alone.   But to come this far, _Lords of Kobol_ \--to come this far, to have the directions leading towards Earth and be defeated now by some freak accident--

 

"Admiral Adama, this is weird," came the pilot’s harried voice. "Lieutenant Gaeta, confirm nav data--"

 

 _What now?_ Laura's mind demanded.

 

"Confirmed Koros," Gaeta said in an awed tone of voice as he looked at Adama. "Somehow we're moving, Sir."

 

"What?" Colonel Tigh shouted, losing all semblance of composure.

 

"We're moving, Sir," _Galactica's_ pilot, Petty Officer Andromeda Koros said hoarsely. "And so are eleven other ships including the one Gaeta painted as _Pegasus_ \--that's what caught my attention."

 

"How is that possible?" Tigh demanded in outrage. "Engineering says that we won't even be able to get the chem-fueled thrusters back up for at least half an hour. Furthermore, he can't get any reaction out of the drives, so FTL is out of the question. We're incredibly lucky to even have enough emergency power for life support and the artificial gravity--"

 

"I don't know how it's possible, but we are moving, Colonel," the pilot replied. "It's the damnedest thing, because as far as I can determine, none of the other ships have active drives--"

 

"And you can't find anything out there to explain it?" Adama asked quietly. "What about other ships who have us in tow?"

 

"It's as good an explanation as any, but we should have felt something, Sir," Gaeta replied in confusion. "I can't find anything out there besides the Cylons. It's not due to drift, because we're all moving along the same vector. In fact there was remarkably little drift between the ships overall in the first place, Sir."

 

"Well there has to be something out there," Adama insisted in frustration.

 

"Well, whatever it is, it's just started to move five more ships," Koros replied with an incredulous grin.

 

Gaeta chimed in, "My best estimate is that we're moving at just under fifty gravities and accelerating, which should bring us into the Cylon weapons envelope in ten to twelve minutes."

 

Laura stared at Adama in shock, but before she could speak to him, she was interrupted by the comm officer.

 

"Admiral, I have Captain Thrace calling from the flight deck, Sir," Dualla’s replacement said.

 

"Go ahead, Starbuck," he replied hoarsely.

 

"You're not going to believe what we’re looking at down here on the flight deck, Sir," Starbuck said with a note of disbelief mingled with laughter. "The Raptors and Vipers won’t fly--we can't get them through the tubes anyway without power, but Dee’s got a vid transmission on one of the Raptors’ communications systems you need to see."

 

"What is it?" he demanded. "Don't go all mysterious on me, Starbuck, we've got enough mysteries up here--namely how in Hades we're moving!"

 

"Well this should explain it, Sir," Starbuck said with an infuriatingly cheerful chuckle. "Dee’s got it patched through now--I believe we've found ourselves some guardians."

 

#


	2. Hot Rod

A male voice came over the speakers before the imagery burst onto the vid screen. "All right boys and girls, time's running out--speak to me here. We've got to get underway before those chrome-plated goons get close enough to start going at these guys like clay pigeons. Captain Janeway says they've ID'd our friends here as their enemy, so we need to hurry if we're going to keep fifty thousand people from getting seriously toasted--"

 

At that point Laura found herself looking a young man in a black uniform with red shoulders, over a grey turtleneck. He had unruly blonde hair and an air of amused concentration his kind face.

 

"Talk to me, Megan," he called as his hands raced over a control board that looked nothing like anything Laura had ever seen. A dark-haired young woman in a uniform with yellow shoulders sat behind him, concentrating over her own panel. "Have you been able to transfer enough power to the emergency systems of those ships so that they don’t go kaboom when you and Jenny warp out?"

 

"We’re almost through--we just need another five minutes," answered the young brunette whose face flashed up onto the screen. "But what's the harm in contacting them, Tom? I mean, they're bound to figure out something screwy happened here--"

 

"Oh, they'll figure out something went completely _nuts_ all right," he said with a wry grin as Laura met Adama's eyes in disbelief as he joined her near the display. There was no other sound on the _Galactica's_ bridge. "That can't be helped, Meg, but Captain Janeway is right--we have an obligation to clean up our mess. We're not supposed to be here, this isn't our society--albeit they're human--but the point is that our slipstream caused this. So will you be a sweetie and move it!"

 

"We're generating shields around them now--gods, these are unwieldy mothers," the young woman laughed.

 

"Tell me about it--"

 

" _La Giaconda_ to _Hot Rod_ ," a new voice interrupted.

 

"I'm here, Nicoletti. How are you and the _Red Baron_ doing, _Giaconda_?"

 

"Great," a young, black-haired woman replied enthusiastically; an undefinable blonde head was visible over her shoulder. "We've finished transferring energy to the last ships--it’s going to be a bitch maintaining separation though even with the wide-band tractor beams. The Delta Flyers are ready to lock tractors on the heavies. They’ll have minimal shields, but their heavier plated bulkheads ought to withstand any sort of jostling--"

 

"Well, we'll have to make sure none of those drone fighters get through," Tom Paris laughed. "Now hustle your butts into formation--how are you guys for fuel."

 

"I'm at 89%," Nicoletti replied.

 

"I'm at 92%," a male voice reported--the unseen pilot of _Red Baron_ , Laura supposed. _Not guardians_ , she mentally corrected Starbuck, _they are the Lords of Kobol themselves!_

 

" _Voyager_ to _Hot Rod_ ," called another voice as a new face flashed on the screen. It was a singularly handsome face, with a tattoo over his left eye and he reminded Laura a little of Lieutenant Gaeta, or what she imagined he might look like older.

 

"Go ahead, Commander," Paris replied.

 

Like Paris, the commander wore a uniform with red shoulders.

 

"The Delta Flyer squad is heading out with the larger ships and _Voyager_ will bring up the rear since she has the fifteen smaller ones in tow. Inertial compensators are holding, so we’ll go to warp one once we clear the gravity well."

 

Laura could see the flabbergasted expression of everyone's face--only Starbuck, who strolled into CIC with Dualla, looked insufferably smug.

 

"Understood, Chakotay," Paris replied. "We'll keep the heat off you."

 

"Remember the Captain's orders, Paris," he commanded solemnly. "We want as little loss of life as possible here--preferably none at all. We’re not sure of the full story here--"

 

"The Captain couldn't reason with them," Paris said with understanding.

 

"Let's put it this way, Tom," he chuckled. "They're complete boneheads and sadistic ones at that. They actually had the gall to try and slip a virus into our computer. Machine consciousness, gotta love ’em--all logic and no imagination. It’s as if they’ve never heard of a holding buffer or counter-virus before!"

 

"Ouch! Not a good idea. And the Captain doesn't want me to tear them a new ah--rectum?" Paris returned with sparkling eyes.

 

"Just follow orders, Paris," he chastised. “Besides, Kathryn and my lovely wife are planning to sic a self-propagating fractal worm chock full of Borg algorithms on them. Keep them off our back and they’ll soon be too busy trying to keep it from spreading to the rest of their ship minds through those lovely interlink relays they think they’ve been so clever in hiding.”

 

"I will, Commander. What about _Voyager's_ damage?" he asked with a shade of anxiousness for the first time.

 

"We'll worry about that when we're sure these people have their feet back under them," Chakotay replied soberly again. "B'Elanna and Annika estimate that it'll be another eight to twelve hours before the dampening from the slipstream dissipates and they can get their engines reinitialised. Once we've accomplished that, we'll find a nice safe place and try to effect what repairs we can--"

 

"Their technology may be sophisticated enough that we can get some manufactured components from them--could it hurt that much?" the younger man asked quietly.

 

"Believe me, Paris, it could hurt a lot," he answered. "But why don't you let the Captain worry about that, all right?"

 

"All right, Chakotay," he said. "My squad's assembled, so we'll cut out now. See you at the rendezvous point."

 

"See you at the rendezvous point," Chakotay replied with a brilliant smile. "And be careful."

 

"Will do," he replied with a grin. "After all, what can go wrong--they can't see us."

 

"Don't get cocky, Paris," he said with a chuckle. " _Voyager_ out."

 

"All right, chickadees," Paris said as his grin took on a distinctly feral look. "We get to play kamikaze doctor with these guys while the other Cobras play tugboat. Let's put the fear of a certain Captain of the Federation Starship _Voyager_ into them. But you heard what the man said, no casualties. So target the drones, weapon's ports, those humongous rail guns and their stardrives. I want to see the work of surgeons out there, so no hack and slash. Take your time--in normal space these guys are slower than molasses in winter."

 

"What if they get those drones off?" asked another young man who looked remarkably like Chakotay.

 

"Then plasma burn them, Ayala," he ordered harshly. "If those drones get through, then those people are toast--not to mention, _Voyager_ can't take very much with the shape she's in. _Copper Head_ , _Giaconda_ , _Zayan_ , _Shaka_ , you're with me on point; we'll start with the lead ship and work our way back. _Togo_ , _Red Baron_ \--you two are responsible for toasting any drones and missiles they get off, so hang back." There were acknowledgements all around before she looked up and smiled.

 

"We're coming up on the intercept point, so let's go for it and kick some cybernetic butt," Paris laughed as the Cylon basestar loomed on the screen. " _Hot Rod_ out." His image vanished as the basestar drew closer at an impossible rate of speed.

 

"Is this real time?" Tigh croaked in disbelief.

 

"You bet, Colonel," Starbuck replied with the same smug smile. "Dee managed to get about two minutes recorded before we sent it up here to you," she continued as a missile battery came into sharp focus. Without warning, _something_ neatly cut it away from its mount as the others gasped in disbelief.

 

"Yup, like a knife through butter," Starbuck laughed.

 

Suddenly something flitted across the basestar’s hull like a mad firefly.

 

"What was that?" Laura asked as the basestar's missile tubes came into view.

 

"Dualla, rewind--put that part up on the split screen and slow it down," Adama ordered as Laura looked on excitedly.

 

 _We have guardians_ , her mind whispered to her, _and possibly allies of tremendous power and technological sophistication, if we play our cards right_. They didn't want to interfere in Colonial society, but it was obvious their mothership, _Voyager_ , had been damaged by whatever a slipstream was, so she was going to need help.

 

"Well, will you look at that," Starbuck said, giving a low whistle of admiration and Laura brought her attention back to the screen. "Admiral, what the _frak_ is that?"

 

"That, Starbuck," William Adama said gazing in awe at the tiny ship, hovering like a nectarbird in front of the Cylon basestar. "That, I believe, is a Cobra."

 

Laura Roslin moved closer to Adama to study the ship. It was a sleek, impossible little craft with a disproportionately large, glowing pod mounted each short wing. It turned as it finished firing its tiny missiles at the basestar's missile tubes. The ship itself pivoted seemingly on a dime--to bring its weapons to bear on closing raiders.

 

Laura caught her breath as she looked into the clear cockpit of the tiny ship into the tranquil face of the one called Nicoletti. The young woman was obviously concentrated on her task, but there was a serenity on her face that reminded Laura painfully of her own mother. Behind her, another young, blond-haired woman pivoted easily in her seat seemingly tracking the raider; Laura realised now what she was seeing--each fighter had a pilot and a gunner.

 

"That thing's barely the size of a Viper!" Gaeta said in outrage.

 

"That thing's killing a basestar!" Tigh laughed as another railgun separated neatly from its mount and floated past the tiny ship. "By the Lords of Kobol, who are these people?"

 

"Today, it appears that they're our saviours, Colonel," Laura replied. "They're our gift from the Gods and perhaps willing to be friends also. Admiral Adama, I have an idea," she said softly as he looked into her eyes and nodded. She proceeded to lay out her idea before him.

 

#

 

For the next hour and a half, they watched these extraordinary little ships perform even more extraordinary feats, working with a curious harmony but even more curiously, in complete radio silence.

 

Laura had seen the very fabric of space catch fire in a holocaust of seething energy--Paris' _plasma_ _burn_ , no doubt. The spectacular explosions of the Cylon raiders by the torpedoes Laura could see had paled in comparison as most of them simply vaporised in the plasma burn.

 

Adama and his people worked frantically around her, trying to get as many of their systems on line as possible, but their attention never far from the extraordinary images on the screen until finally, the Cylon ships were drifting--toothless--in the void between the stars. The voices of the Cobra pilots startled her as they came over the speakers again.

 

"I think they've seen the light!" sang Nicoletti’s joyful voice.

 

"I do believe a number of them have found their almighty God," drawled Paris as his image flickered onto the screen. "And I hope the rest of them made it to the head!"

 

Laura couldn't help giggling at the joke--juvenile, but so funny in the non-soto voice it was delivered, and most of the bridge crew had thought likewise.

 

"All right, boys and girls, head for the nest; the others will probably need us to relieve them soon so let's burn rubber--warp 8." As the stars raced by, Paris called, " _Hot Rod_ to _Voyager_ , mission accomplished."

 

A new image came up on the split screen--a slim, auburn-haired, middle-aged woman in a red shouldered uniform. She sat in the middle of her command centre and Laura knew undoubtedly that this was Captain Janeway.

 

"Excellent work, Cobras," Janeway said in a rather pleasantly low and husky voice. "What's your ETA, Mr. Paris?"

 

"About five minutes, Captain," Paris replied with a grin. "We've put the pedal to the metal and we all have over 75% in reserve--how is the rest of the squad doing."

 

"Tuvok?" Janeway asked turning to the black-skinned man behind her; his uniform had yellow shoulders.

 

"The other Cobras do require refuelling," Tuvok replied in a precise voice, looking up from his console. He had strangely pointed ears and slanted eyebrows. "Three are below 35% in plasma reserves; however, cutting power to twenty-five percent in the shields they are presently generating to protect the ships they are towing, would represent a significant reduction in consumption."

 

"Order them to cut shield power to twenty-five," Janeway ordered and returned her attention to Paris. "All right Tom, I suggest you expedite your return," she said with a rueful smile. "We'll be entering the rendezvous system in another hour and sensors indicate that it's uninhabited. The slipstream’s radiation in the last system was probably enough to scramble any signal the artificial intelligences might have tried to get off, but we’ve spiked their communications systems just to be safe--it should buy us some time. Once in-system, we'll rest and make sure our charges have brought their systems on-line before we leave."

 

"Aye, Captain," Paris replied. "How have they been?"

 

"Docile," Janeway said with a smile and Laura chuckled. "They're all probably still wondering what the hell is going on, but without their comm systems out of commission, there isn't much they can do. There hasn't been any structural damage as far as we can determine and the slipstream dampening is dissipating, but it'll be a few hours before they can get in touch with each other. They've all, except some of the smaller ships, been scanning frantically, so the warship commanders have to know that they're safe. My question is how in the world they’ve survived these _Cylons_ with the ancient computer technology they seem to have?"

 

"Hey Captain," Paris returned softly with a grin. "How did we survive the Borg? You fight with what you have or you die."

 

"Touché, Mr. Paris," Janeway replied with a courteous bow as Laura smiled ruefully at Adama.

 

"Admiral Adama, you're on Paris’ carrier wave and I think that he’s close enough now that they should receive us without any time delay," Dee reported as she relieved her replacement. "Just look into the camera and speak, sir."

 

Adama took a deep breath and began; it was strange not to be using the phone, but Laura was right. Janeway and Voyager's people seemed to prefer visual communication and they wanted to start out on the right foot if they were to build a friendship with these people. And although no one had said it, one thought floated in a miasma of hope throughout CIC-- _Earth, these people might be from Earth_.

 

"This is Admiral William Adama of Colonial Fleet Battlestar _Galactica_ to Tom Paris of _Voyager's_ Cobra Squadron, please acknowledge," he called as Paris registered shock and Janeway vaulted from her chair.

 

"Who the hell?" Paris shouted in disbelief as he worked frantically at his boards. "Oh no!" he breathed, shaking his head in dismay. "Captain, my comm system has been compromised for God knows how long--it must have been that subspace relay--it took a hit from a Dii'Qorcho disrupter. Their techs must have stumbled across our comm-signal on the lower EM-band bleeds, I'm getting a piggyback signal from one of the warships--it’s the one Kaplan’s Flyer is handling. I'm cutting the comm--"

 

"Captain Janeway, Mr. Paris, please don't cut communications!" Laura pleaded frantically, not taking her eyes from Janeway's stricken face. "Please, we know what happened and that you attempted to aid us anonymously because you feel responsible for the accident that disabled our ships. We also know that you do not wish to interfere in our society and we respect that, thank you. However, we do wish to express our thanks to you and we hope you will allow us to. You were wondering how we escaped the Cylons. Well, many of us didn’t. We’re all that’s left, Captain Janeway, of twelve vibrant, flourishing colonies of over forty billion human beings. Less than fifty thousand out of forty billion, Captain. We’re refugees looking for a thirteenth colony that struck out on its own over two thousand years ago according to our sacred scrolls. A colony called Earth.”

 

Laura stared at the shocked Janeway; her command crew seemed just as flabbergasted. Chakotay leaned in and whispered something in her ear.

 

“May I ask who I’m speaking to?” Janeway asked hoarsely.

 

“My name is Laura Roslin, Captain Janeway,” she replied. “And I guess you could say that I’m the President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol--what’s left of them.”

 

“And you’re looking for … Earth,” she said slowly, “which you believe to be a lost colony from your world?”

 

“Yes,” Laura said as Adama nodded for her to continue. “Well, Earth was a colony that started out from Kobol, the homeworld of humanity and the Lords of Kobol. We’ve been searching for it since the Cylons attacked. We found Kobol a while ago and retrieved directions to Earth. Do you know of it?”

 

Janeway’s lips tugged into a crooked smile. “Know of it?” she said ruefully. “Yes, I suppose you can say that, President Roslin. I was born on Earth--”

 

There was dead silence on the bridge of _Galactica_ as they stared at the strange woman in awe.

 

“My mother and sister still live there--a little place called Indiana actually,” she chuckled.

 

#

 


	3. Weird is part of the job

The roar of cheers that filled _Galactica’s_ CIC was deafening. The crew laughed and cried through their happiness. Tigh swept up a screaming Starbuck and spun her around--then both suddenly realized in shock what they were doing and jumped back as if burned. William Adama wished he could do the same with Laura, but he settled for the small hand that squeezed his briefly. And although he hated to put a damper on everyone’s happiness, something about Janeway and her people’s demeanour immediately put him on his guard.

 

“Captain Janeway,” he said, “can you confirm where Earth is? Are we close to it? Can you help us get there?”

 

A curious shadow passed over Janeway's face and Adama could tell she was distinctly uncomfortable with those simple questions.

 

"Earth is a member of a vast Federation of Planets,” Janeway said--the noise on the bridge died abruptly, “and our Federation has very strict rules about whom we may reveal ourselves to, Admiral Adama, President Roslin. It is among our highest laws, not only for our protection but for the protection of other societies as well," she said quietly. "As you’ve no doubt noted, our technologies are very different from your own. Knowledge of them may be extremely dangerous to your people. I will have to consider your requests for information very carefully. We are explorers from Earth, but an accident with our propulsion system brought us here. As much as we would like to get to know your people better, especially if you _are_ long lost cousins, as you can imagine, we would be very remiss if we didn’t take some precautions. From what we’ve gathered of the situation, you’re being chased by some rather dangerous artificial beings whose sole reason for existing appears to be the utter annihilation of the human species. As such, I hope you’ll forgive us for being cautious until we understand the situation better."

 

"Understood, Captain Janeway," Laura replied sincerely. "However, I hope a friendship is still a possibility and we would still like to repay our debt to you, although nothing I can think of would be payment enough. Mr. Paris indicated that you required materials to repair your ship; we don’t have much, but we would be willing to share."

 

As she fell silent, Laura could see the astonishment and the gratitude in Janeway's eyes and at last the woman smiled a brilliant smile. Her voice, when she spoke, was a little rougher than before.

 

"Thank you, President Roslin, for your generosity," she replied. "I'll have to discuss your proposal with my senior officers before I make any decision. Now that you know of our presence, we will have to tread very carefully and determine exactly how much contact will be allowed between our people. However, since you are aware of us, I'll turn you over to my chief of operations, Lieutenant Harry Kim.   He will walk you through the necessary precautions you'll have to take if you wish to re-establish contact with the other vessels in your convoy before the effects of the slipstream interference have dissipated."

 

It was Laura's turn to gape at the smiling woman in surprise. "We've been waiting for Mother Nature to take her course,” Janeway continued, “but we can give her a little help. You won't be able to receive anything from the other ships until they adjust their instruments, but once we’ve fixed your systems, you can transmit the instructions through the interference to the others. It might be a little less strange coming from your people. Then when we get to the rendezvous system, we can get down to the decontamination of your engines and power systems. With a little luck you can have them back within a few hours. If you don't have the proper instruments, I'll send them over in a shuttle with some of my personnel, but we may have to cut through your docking hatches, Admiral Adama, so you'll have to evacuate your shuttle bays if it comes to that."

 

"Understood, Captain," Adama said. "Thank you."

 

#

 

"How's it going, B'Elanna?" Kathryn Janeway asked as she entered main engineering.

 

"Them or us?" Torres asked dryly before giving her Captain a wry smile. "Main power is stable, but dragging those ships at warp is taking its toll. I’ve got it under control, but the warp core pressure is still rising--not to mention over half our Bassard conduits are shot from the slipstream shock wave, while the deflector is hanging by a very slim thread."

 

"We'll be getting rid of those ships within the hour," Janeway told her with a smile.

 

"Thank the gods for small mercies," Torres returned with a grin. She finished her adjustment to the panel she was working on and gathered up her engineering kit. "Actually, those ships are pretty sturdy--primitive, but sturdy--although, if we hadn't managed to dissipate the power of the slipstream wavefront, they’d have been cosmic dust."

 

"Don't remind me, B'Elanna," Janeway said quietly as she placed her hand on Torres' shoulder.

 

"Anyway, I'd say it was worth it just to see the look on Tom's face when Adama and Roslin contacted him!" Torres quipped, revelling in her husband's embarrassment and Janeway chuckled delightedly. "So what do you think of Madam President’s offer?"

 

"It's intriguing," Kathryn replied still smiling as Torres packed another tool in her kit. "As I said, we'll have to tread carefully--figure out how much they know. I mean, they think Earth’s a colony of some world called Kobol, for crying out loud!”

 

“Stranger things have happened, Kathryn,” B’Elanna said. “Look at the Voth, Chakotay’s dinosaur people, or Amelia Earhart and the Thirty-sevens.”

 

She handed off the engineering kit to one of her young Ajaeri assistants. The Ajaeri were large, cat-like beings with pastel-coloured manes that _Voyager_ had rescued nearly three years before. Their solar system had been torn apart by the passage of a rogue brown dwarf star, which passed too close and was trapped by the sun’s gravity well. When _Voyager_ had found them, a small group of Ajaeri scientists and their families were trying to escape the system in two primitive sub-light ships, both of which were in danger of being pulled back in by the gravitational distortions caused by the brown dwarf. In the end, _Voyager’s_ crew was only able to rescue one ship in time.

 

Those eighty-three individuals were all that was left of a vibrant people, and their leaders had asked Janeway to be allowed to remain on board and accompany _Voyager_ back to the alpha quadrant. Kathryn had been unable to say no, and although Ajaeri technology had been centuries behind the Federation’s, they were integrating quickly into the crew with many of the older people joining security, while the younger ones assisted in engineering and other departments, learning as they went along. There was also the bonus that they made excellent gunners for Paris’ fleet of Cobra fighters, which he’d developed in the last year and which Kathryn had to admit had been an excellent investment of resources despite her initial reluctance.

 

“True,” Kathryn conceded. “Weird _is_ part of the job. I wonder what group of aliens went mucking around on Earth kidnapping their ancestors and hauling them all the way out here in the beta quadrant.”

 

“Yeah, Tom says that they’re basically speaking Twenty-first Century--maybe late Twentieth Century--American English with surprisingly little variation that cannot be accounted for by dialect drift,” B’Elanna reported. “But you must admit that their time frame is a bit off; two thousand years? The Twenty-first Century was only three hundred years ago and English itself as a full fledged language has only been around for about a thousand years. So unless you want to argue for parallel evolution of languages, Tom and I agree that we might be looking at--”

 

“No, don’t say it,” Kathryn moaned, dropping her face into her hand. “I’m getting a headache already.”

 

Torres snorted a laugh and squeezed her friend and captain’s shoulder. “Yup, time travel,” she said as Kathryn gave another strangled groan. “It’s the only thing that makes sense if we’re to believe what they’re saying is the truth.”

 

Kathryn lifted her gaze and heaved a sigh. “I figured it had to be something like that,” she admitted. “I just couldn’t face the headache, because depending on how dogmatic they are about their history, it promises to give me the mother of all migraines.” Torres chuckled at that and Kathryn gave her a wan smile before continuing. “Anyway, I'm tempted to send the Doctor over there, but I don't think I can risk it. With the state of their computer technology, he’d probably freak them out. But although they haven't asked, I'll offer what medical assistance I can and shuttles to ferry those that can be moved for treatment. It sounds like they've suffered a lot."

 

"From what we’ve gathered about those Cylons, they've suffered more than a lot, Kathryn," Torres said angrily. "I'd be interested to know why their President looks like death warmed over," she continued, looking directly into Janeway's eyes. "We could do a lot worse than make friends with her and she's willing to help."

 

Janeway nodded in agreement as Seven of Nine approached; there was a time when Kathryn had regretted the loss of their friendship, but it was too late for regrets … three years too late. Kathryn's mind shied away from that familiar anger that rose like bile from her gut, forcing herself to be professional.

 

"Captain, from Mr. Kim's communications with the refugees, we've determined that they do not have most of the tools required to effect the repairs," Seven said in her clipped, curt tones. "Moreover, they do not have the most basic expertise required to safely follow our instructions even if we provided them with tools."

 

"All right, Annika," Janeway replied, keeping a firm lid on her bitterness and dislike for the former Borg drone. "B'Elanna, assemble an away team--fully envirosuited with transport enhancer armbands and two people to remain on the shuttle at all times in case we have to pull someone out of a dangerous spot quickly. I don't want to use transporters, but we may have to--better to be safe than sorry. Once they've got communications back, we should be in our hiding place and I'll have Admiral Adama instruct the other ships’ commanders that we'll be knocking on their hatches."

 

#

 

William Adama stood at Laura Roslin’s side as the airlock cycled, while the crews from the flight deck lined the corridor. All through the negotiations, he'd had mixed feelings about these people. To be sure, they weren't going to abandon helpless ships, but though they seemed reluctant to side with the Colonials, the Cylons had obviously made less than a stellar impression on Janeway. He gave an inward chuckle at the thought as the hatch opened.

 

Fourteen individuals in white environmental suits exited the airlock, looked around curiously at the crowded corridor then one by one, lifted their hands to their helmets and released their seals. There was an audible click and a hiss as they removed the helmets.

 

Adama couldn't help but stare in shock as he regarded them and he heard an audible gasp behind him. Although some of them looked normal enough, and he recognized Harry Kim, the operations officer he’d dealt with, he'd never seen anything like the young man’s companions. One of the women had a forehead that was badly deformed, with a cordillera of ridges running down the centre. Another man had a greenish hue to his skin and pointed ears, while a second looked like his nose had been bashed in to form an impossible accordion on the bridge, a couple looked like giant cats with pastel-coloured manes and yet two more were an incredible blue colour with distinctly deformed skulls!

 

Everyone was taken aback and as the woman with the ridged forehead came forward, she stopped suddenly in bewilderment, her umber complexion darkening as she looked back to her fellows for a moment.

 

"Admiral Adama, President Roslin?" she queried uncertainly. "I'm Lieutenant Commander B'Elanna Torres, _Voyager's_ chief engineer. Is there something wrong, Sir, Ma'am?"

 

"No, Commander Torres," Adama replied with a welcoming smile. "It's just that your appearance was a little … unexpected."

 

The woman looked completely confused again, her dark brown eyes opening wide. "Our appearance, Admiral Adama?" she asked deeply puzzled. "I was told you knew that we were coming, Sir--your shuttlebay was evacuated--"

 

Before Adama or Roslin could reply, the greenish young man with the pointed ears and slanted eyebrows spoke. "Commander Torres, if I may?"

 

Torres half turned to face him. "What is it, Vorik?" she asked impatiently.

 

"I believe, Commander, that there appears to have been slight oversight on the part of the Captain," the young man answered in his precise clipped tones. "Perhaps what Admiral Adama meant to say was that our _physical_ appearance was somewhat unexpected, because if I am not mistaken, they have not had experience with non-humans," he said and Adama felt as if the ship had pitched beneath him.

 

#

 


	4. Good Day

Laura felt a deep ripple of shock go through all present as the cool, almost emotionless young "man" made his pronouncement. She could feel the fear in some of her people and the disbelief and curiosity from most of _Voyager's_ officers.

 

"What?" Torres growled, taking an involuntary step backwards as her head snapped around to regard Laura. If Vorik was emotionless, this alien woman was a volcano of passionate emotions, bubbling just below the surface, waiting to erupt. Disbelief gave way to something like horror in those dark eyes. "Oh Kahless, is that true? You don't have any experience with aliens?"

 

"While it is true that we've had no experience with intelligent, human-like aliens, Commander Torres," Laura replied quickly in what she hoped was a confident voice as she tried to quell the butterflies in her own stomach. "It is not true that we haven't had any experience with aliens. We've had contact with some intelligent extraterrestrial societies such as the Hydra and Poseidon’s Water Sirens, but none were human-like or possessed space-faring capabilities."

 

She could feel Torres' relief as the alien woman relaxed visibly. "Well at least it's something," she said with a smile that softened her alien features. "But before we go any further, Madam President, Admiral Adama, we need to consult with the Captain. It never occurred to us that you wouldn't have had any experience, it's just something we take for granted--but we should have suspected given the apparent barrenness of this sector of the beta quadrant."

 

"I understand, Commander," Laura said sincerely.

 

“You can use our CIC relay to Mr. Paris’ fighter,” William said and the alien woman blinked as if taken aback by the suggestion and then shrugged.

 

"Thank you, Admiral Adama … anyway, please allow me to make introductions," she continued a shade uncomfortably as she turned to the tall human man. "Lieutenant Commander Magnus Rollins--my team will take the port engines, while Commander Rollins' team will take the starboard."

 

Adama nodded a polite acknowledgement as she continued, "My team will consist of Lieutenant Vorik (the greenish-skinned alien with the pointed ears), Lieutenant Golwat (the blue-skinned woman), Ensign Fredrick Bristow (decidedly human), Nistrie ylc Pona and his daughter Tristera (the two large, cat-like people). On Commander Rollins' team are Lieutenant Helen Kyoto (human), Ensign Jerron Adun (a human-looking young man with a strangely shaped nose), Ensign Marla Gilmore (human), Crewman Chell (the blue-skinned man) and Crewman Icheb (a young alien boy with bits of technology on his face)."

 

She turned to the last two members of the group, the young ops officer and a tall, beautiful blonde woman, who--like the alien boy--had strange metal prosthesis over her left eye and one on her right temple. "You already know our chief of operations, Lieutenant Harry Kim," she said introducing the young man, before indicating to the woman. "And this is Annika Hansen--they will be in charge of fixing your communication's system."

 

"I'm pleased to meet you all," Adama said with a smile and a courteous bow. "Allow me to introduce my Chief Petty Officer Galen Tyrol and Petty Officer Jane Cally." Both non-coms nodded to _Voyager's_ officers. "Chief Tyrol and Ms Cally will guide you to engine room and introduce you to the engineering crews."

 

"Thank you, Admiral Adama," Torres replied. "All right everyone, let's get to it. Prime Directive, Condition Alpha is in effect until I can talk to Captain Janeway. Vorik, take over for me until I get there." She nodded as they all replied "Aye Commander" and gathered up their helmets and equipment.

 

A few brave souls--techs and pilots from the flight deck--did Laura proud by coming forward, introducing themselves to their guests' surprise and offering to help with their equipment cases. As Torres' teams followed Tyrol and Cally down the corridor, Adama smiled at Voyager's remaining officers and escorted them towards the CIC.

 

"May I ask what Prime Directive, Condition Alpha is, Commander Torres?" Laura asked curiously and the other woman smiled as the young Lieutenant Kim chuckled softly, but through it all, she could feel Adama's anxiety with her being in such close proximity to these people. However, she had felt no hostility from Janeway's crew--human or alien--only surprise and curiosity.

 

"The Prime Directive is our highest law dealing with first contact between Starfleet and Federation personnel and new societies we meet out in the galaxy, Ma'am," she replied honestly. "Condition Alpha, simply put, means to keep our mouths shut except for the bare essentials until God or the Captain says otherwise."

 

Adama laughed heartily as the doors opened to the CIC. "She's your mistress after the Gods," he said, quoting the old military adage.

 

Torres snorted in wry amusement as they entered the control centre. "Oh, you'd be hard-pressed to find anyone on _Voyager_ who would follow any god's orders if she disapproved, Admiral Adama," she quipped as Kim laughed and even the dour Annika Hansen cracked a small smile that transformed her face tremendously.

 

Laura sensed her people's surprise and apprehension as Adama introduced Torres and her group to a flabbergasted Colonel Tigh, but that was nothing compared to the collective disbelief she felt when he explained that the commander was an alien and had others on her teams and yet more among the crew of _Voyager_.

 

"May I ask what your species is called, Commander Torres?" Starbuck asked boldly; she was clearly curious about them. “Captain Kara Thrace, Commander of _Galactica’s_ Air Group at your service,” she added with a typical Starbuck flourish.

 

"Why don’t you ask me that in a few minutes, Captain Thrace?" Torres replied with a grin. "We're not used to thinking of humans as alien societies and I need to consult with Captain Janeway about the situation."

 

Starbuck nodded as Adama ordered, "Open the channel to Paris, Dee."

 

Laura smiled as the young man appeared with an impish smile on his face. "Hey Dee, hiya Starbuck, how's it hanging?"

 

"No time for chit-chat, Tom," Starbuck replied hastily. "Your Lieutenant Commander Torres needs to talk to your Captain."

 

"Can do, B'Elanna," Tom said with a slightly puzzled frown. "Paris to _Voyager_."

 

"Lieutenant Commander Tuvok here--" The image of the tall, black man on the bridge appeared on the split-screen and Laura realised with a sense of shock that he was of the same alien species as Lieutenant Vorik. "How may I be of service?"

 

"Tuvok," Torres began without preamble. "Where's the Captain? I need to speak to her _ASAP_ before I start blundering around here like a tarq in a pit."

 

"She is in astrometrics, Commander, scanning the planets in this system," he answered quietly. "One moment please, I will transfer you."

 

The screen went blank for a few seconds before Janeway appeared against a background displaying a large, detailed graphic of a planet that shifted perspective every few moments. She was consulting with a tall, blonde (presumably human) woman, whose uniform had blue shoulders.

 

"How can I help you, B'Elanna?" she asked in mild concern. "Has something gone wrong?"

 

"Not exactly, Captain," Torres replied with a grin. "Only that our appearance startled Admiral Adama and his people quite a bit."

 

"I don't understand," Janeway said in confusion.

 

"As Vorik put it, "there seems to have been a slight oversight" on your part, Captain," she chuckled. "Needless to say, the appearance of a Klingon, a Vulcan, a Bajoran, two former Borgs, two big, blue Bolians, and not to mention not one, but _two_ giant talking cats came as quite a shock to them."

 

Janeway looked like someone who'd been hit in the stomach by a round of bullets. "You mean they've had no experience with extra-terrestrials?" she asked in complete bewilderment.

 

"Again, not exactly, Captain," Torres replied, her grin widening. "They haven't had any experience with humanoid aliens, but have had contact with what sounds like a number of pre-space, aboriginal, extra-terrestrial societies."

 

Janeway looked speculatively at them. "So you won't have any problems with aliens, Admiral Adama," she said quietly.

 

"Not on this ship, Captain," Adama replied, and Laura gratified to see that Janeway wasn't going to pre-emptively pull her people out.

 

Janeway's eyes nodded with a serious expression; Laura could see her weighing the substance of Adama's answer.

 

"I see," Janeway said smiling now. "All right, B'Elanna," she said turning her attention to her chief engineer. "You can downgrade the Prime Directive to Condition Delta. Answer questions on Earth as well as your various planets and cultures of origin--" Laura felt a curious sensation of surprise and something indefinable from the three _Voyager_ officers on the bridge, "but no cartography or identifying landmarks and absolutely no references to history or technology until further notice."

 

"Understood, Captain," Torres replied with a grin. "This bull will watch her step in the china shop," she chuckled softly. "I'll inform the others."

 

"Well I'm glad that's been straightened out," the Federation Captain said with a smile. "On another front Admiral Adama, my Doctor has reported that he's taken care of our casualties and would like to offer his services and his sickbay to your people. We are unsure of their condition and your physicians would probably want to care for your more critical patients. But with the sheer number of people on your ships, we would like to offer our services, even if it's simply to dispense nutritional supplements to those who need it the most. Our ship is small and our resources are limited, but I believe we can handle at least that. We are currently in a relatively safe system and there are no hostile ships within range at the moment, which has freed our shuttles to act as ferries since most of your ships now have their emergency thrusters on-line and are station-keeping on their own."

 

"Thank you, Captain, that would be greatly appreciated," Adama said in gratitude. "I'll have Dualla connect him intra-ship to Dr. Cottle. We didn't have any warning of the Cylons' attack, so we've been making do with a handful of physicians and medics. Any help would be most welcome."

 

"Then expect a few more knocks on your front door," Janeway replied. "Our shuttles can hold a maximum of eighteen passengers, if they don't mind crowding for a little while--"

 

"Believe me," Laura chuckled. "We don't mind crowding at all."

 

"Then I'll put my Doctor on the line, if you'd be so good as to connect him with yours. Janeway out."

 

Laura nodded and turned to see Lieutenant Kim and Ensign Hansen unpacking their shoulder cases and beginning to scan the instruments at the communication system.

 

"Dee, connect _Voyager's_ doctor to Dr. Cottle," Adama ordered.

 

"Aye, Sir."

 

"I'd better be getting to work, Admiral Adama," Torres said quietly.

 

"Understood, Commander Torres," Adama replied and beckoned to Gaeta. "This is Lieutenant Felix Gaeta; he'll escort you to the engine room.

 

Before Gaeta took over, Laura took a moment to satisfy her curiosity before Torres left. "Commander, may we know what species you are now?"

 

Torres became a little uneasy--in fact they were all uneasy as she answered, "Klingon, Ma'am--" And Laura got the feeling she was hiding something, but then her Captain had ordered her to hide things.

 

"Klingons have traditionally been an enemy of the Federation since its formation--they've not always been exactly on cordial terms, although that's changed a little in the last half-century. I've lived among humans all of my life--pure scientists and engineers are not as highly prized in the Klingon Empire as warriors are. Let's just say that the honour of dying well in battle is the highest honour there is in Klingon culture. A warrior is nothing unless she brings victory or honour to her House in a glorious battle to the death--retreat is rarely an option. The Klingon motto is "today is a good day to die". Good day, President Roslin," she said with a wry smile.

 

"Good day, Commander Torres," Laura replied in bemusement as she watched the young woman leave with Gaeta. All through her answer, she could sense the alien woman fighting her violent emotions as they churned beneath the surface--Laura had little doubt about the violence of Klingon society. However, she suspected that Torres' wry sense of humour would not go over well in such a society. Laura wondered about the name Torres. It sounded human, but considering she'd said she'd lived among humans all her life, Laura wondered if she had been adopted into human society. She certainly hadn't seemed comfortable with her Klingon heritage.

 

"The doctors have been connected, Sir," Dualla said smiling. "They seem to have hit it off."

 

"Thank you, Dee," Adama acknowledged as Lieutenant Kim and Annika Hansen started their work.

 

"May I ask what species you are, Ms Hansen?" Dualla continued conversationally as the other woman reached over the communications station to attach a device to the console. Kim grinned as he moved towards navigation, scanning as he went.

 

"I am human, Ms Dualla," she answered without inflection. After a moment of thought she seemed to make up her mind and continued, "However, I was Borg. Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix Zero One was my designation in the Borg Collective."

 

"Borg?" Dualla asked curiously. Laura could feel the attention of the crew on the young woman.

 

"The Borg is a Collective of cybernetic organisms who share a single consciousness, a single goal, a unified harmony of purpose," she answered to Laura's shock and revulsion. "The Borg seek to add to their perfection by assimilating and adapting the biological and technological distinctiveness of other species to the Collective. They captured my parents' ship and assimilated us into the Collective when I was five years old. I spent eighteen years of my life as a drone with no identity but that of the Collective--a harmony of parts working as one. I was Seven of Nine almost all my life. The life of a single drone does not matter, only the existence of the Collective--if one ceases to function, it is replaced."

 

"You're a Cylon!" Dualla said in horror.

 

Suddenly the core of coldness within her that horrified Laura seemed to disappear as she met Dualla's eyes and became almost human.

 

"No, I am a human being, Ms Dualla," she said quietly. "The Borg are much worse than your Cylons. The Cylons simply want to exterminate humanity. The Borg are ancient--spread over this and other quadrants of the galaxy like a plague. They do not exterminate. Instead, they take individual organic beings--human or alien--and assimilate them, make them a part of their machine collective. Almost eight years ago, Captain Janeway was forced to deal with the Borg. In the conflict that ensued, she severed me from the Collective and I have been adapting to life on _Voyager_ , rediscovering my humanity and my individuality ever since. Now, I have a husband and two children. The name my parents gave me was Annika--Annika Hansen. It was the name of an honourable Federation ambassador--my grandmother's name. It is the name I use now."

 

#

 

Commander Lee Adama, commander of Battlestar _Pegasus_ stood brooding over his non-functioning ship--the last few hours could not have been more bizarre. As they’d exited the jump, all their systems had been knocked off-line, but miraculously no one had been seriously hurt as emergency power to the environmental systems and artificial gravity had kicked in almost immediately. DRADIS scans had shown all the other ships to be in the same boat and a Cylon force bearing down on them.

 

Then even more bizarrely, they began to move without any means of propulsion, while the Cylon basestars had mysteriously broke off pursuit--their raiders destroyed in mid-flight. Now the Fleet had stopped in an unknown system, in orbit around the ninth planet.

 

At least his engineer had managed to get thrusters back, but none of the main propulsion systems could be brought on line--again for some unknown reason. He'd evacuated the flight deck and presently had a team trying to cut through the blast doors of an emergency hatch and get at least one Raptor in space, but again they were having the same trouble bringing the Raptor's systems on-line. He turned to meet his XO's eyes and the older man gave an eloquent shrug of sympathy--Simon Nash was as baffled as everyone else.

 

"Adama to all ships!" The speakers blared and he'd never heard anything so sweet as his father's voice at that moment. Lee signalled to his communications technician to turn down the volume as Nash bolted to his side. "If you are receiving me, you won't be able to respond over the comm, so I want everyone to kill all DRADIS scans in exactly thirty seconds for one minute, and then bring them up again."

 

As Adama went silent Lee barked. "Do as he says!"

 

"Aye sir," the navigation officer replied in obvious relief.

 

After an intolerable silence, Adama chuckled. "My … you've all improved greatly on your synchronisation. All right, no doubt you've been baffled by the rather bizarre turn of events today, but believe me by the time this is over, today may seem almost normal in comparison. It seems ladies and gentlemen, we've picked up a ship of guardians--who, although they're rather reticent on the subject of their origins--are from Earth."

 

Lee met Nash's eyes in disbelief as Adama continued, "An accident with their propulsion system caused the phenomenon that knocked our systems off-line. It’s something known as a slipstream, however _Galactica's_ sensors registered it moments before it hit and it seemed to be something akin to an energy wave. According to Captain Janeway, whose ship _Voyager_ was also damaged by the phenomenon, had we been in jump-space or normal space, we would not have been as badly affected and it was only our bad luck to be transitioning from jump-space with our engines still hot just when it hit.

 

"They felt responsible for our plight and took measures to ensure our safety, transferring power to our emergency systems to keep everything going. They are also responsible for killing the Cylon's pursuit and tractoring us to the safety of this solar system. The reason our systems aren't coming on-line is because they've been contaminated by a dampening phenomenon due to the slipstream radiation. It will dissipate given enough time, but they have been decontaminating the _Galactica's_ systems and we will be bringing our engines on-line within the next half hour. Captain Janeway has assembled teams to deal with the problem. Each ship will take an average of an half an hour to decontaminate. As the emergency docking hatch’s blast doors are unpowered, they'll have to cut through to get their shuttles in, so I need the flight decks to be evacuated as soon as possible. Once the decks are clear, I'll need you to signal by taking your DRADIS off-line until I acknowledge you--"

 

"Gillian, tell the teams to clear the flight deck immediately," Lee ordered his comm officer. "DuMont take the DRADIS off-line once you have the all clear."

 

"Once _Voyager's_ officers have docked, their shuttles will be free to ferry people to _Voyager_ for medical treatment--I suggest your medics gather those in the most immediate need first as their crew compliment is small and have only one physician and limited supplies. Their shuttles are also very small, holding a maximum of eighteen people at a time--"

 

Adama laughed outright at this moment and Lee was gratified to hear the low chuckles bubble up so joyfully. "I see that you're bucking for a promotion to Admiral, Lee--I'll relay your message to Captain Janeway right away. Someone should be knocking on your hatch within the next ten to fifteen minutes. However, that brings me to an important point I need to make about these people--that is they're definitely not from around here.

 

"Earth apparently belongs to a vast interstellar federation, the United Federation of Planets, and it has a Prime Directive their people have taken an oath to follow, namely not to reveal themselves to people below a certain level of technological sophistication. Therefore their first reaction was to help us anonymously. Their original plan was to tow us to this system and protect us until the effects of the slipstream radiation dissipated so we could bring our systems on line ourselves. However, they reckoned without Dualla--" Lee nearly doubled over with laughter.

 

"Petty Officer Dualla was trying to use a Raptor’s communications system to cut through the interference. She knew someone had to be out there, and to make a long story short, she managed to hack into their communications system as they prepared to move us out and deal with the Cylons. Needless to say, they were rather shocked to find out that we'd been aware of them all this time and Captain Janeway agreed to help us openly. However, when their specialists came on board, it was their turn to once again shock us--a significant number of Captain Janeway's crew consists of non-human, extra-terrestrials--"

 

Lee's mirth faded as a look of consternation rippled throughout the bridge and he felt Nash stiffen beside him.

 

Adama continued in a grave tone, "You heard me correctly. Although most have a basic human-like shape, there are significant differences and they are most definitely _not_ human. However, they are people to whom humanity is not simply an alien culture, but close friends, colleagues and allies--the United Federation of Planets is a planetary alliance that was formed by the humans of Earth and a number of alien species, both humanoid and non-humanoid. _Voyager_ was built specifically to accommodate a crew with similar physiological requirements, such as the need to breathe oxygen--I'm told that their Starfleet vessels are often built along those lines of consideration. Day to day contact with other species is the reason why Captain Janeway didn't realize what a bit of culture shock her crew would be to us.

 

"However, as I indicated earlier, they do follow their Prime Directive quite strictly. Since Dualla did manage to hack their system and we've had some contact with alien aborigines, I think we've convinced them that we're not quite as backward as they first believed, but there are still questions they will not answer--namely anything to do with where their Federation is or about their own technology. Captain Janeway has conditionally agreed to escort us out of this sector, but has yet to decide whether to risk showing us to Earth and we will respect her decisions. The Cylons are still chasing us and I’m sure no one wants to risk showing them the way there. But I do know we will all show her and her people the respect they deserve, as well as our sincere gratitude for their assistance. And Lee," he chuckled. "I believe your doorbell is ringing."

 

#

 


	5. She may be tiny, but she packs a big punch

"What are you still doing here, Laura?" Adama asked angrily as he stepped into his office.

 

"William--" she began in annoyance.

 

"No!" he blazed furiously. "You are _so_ hard headed! Don't you think it's time that the President of the Twelve Colonies paid a courtesy call to our benefactors?"

 

"You know that's not why I'll be there," she returned from between clenched teeth. "There are others who need--"

 

"Yes and _you_ are in need!" he retorted, which served to make her more annoyed. "Look Laura, Cottle tells me that we have a chance here to finally figure out what happened to you," he said as she gasped at him in surprise and she felt a wave of hope as she wrapped her arms about herself and felt her own ribs beneath her skin. "Whatever assistance they might or might not give us,” Adama continued, “that doctor of theirs is not skimping on anything in his life centre. Already, he's neutralizing the toxins in the people who ate the contaminated ponics food on _Rogue Star_ and more importantly, he’s curing all manner of diseases. He's currently regenerating the hand of a recent amputee and making prosthetics for others who can’t be regenerated, and he’s screening those who come through for any abnormalities that can identify the human-copy Cylons.”

 

Laura held his gaze and nodded; she and Adama had decided to inform Janeway about the human-like Cylon infiltrators so that they wouldn’t compromise _Voyager’s_ security--though from Janeway’s reaction, it wasn’t much of a possibility. But it didn’t hurt to be honest with the woman.

 

“Cottle has given him as much information as he can,” William continued, “but he needs to examine you to figure out the exact nature of your cancer and what Baltar did to you with that Cylon baby’s blood so that there’s no relapse. At the very least he can give you a nutrient supplement to improve your appetite and general health."

 

She looked up at him as the tears smarted in her eyes; his tone softened as he radiated his hope and concern. "I know you’re afraid, Laura, but I believe he can help you."

 

She took a deep breath and stood. "All right, William," she said hoarsely. "I'll head out with the next shuttle run in two hours."

 

He grinned at her roguishly as he opened the door. "Actually, Commander Chakotay managed to snag one of their Cobras to play ferry," he said with a laugh as she looked at him in surprise then with a wave of annoyance. "There's just enough room for you and Starbuck to squeeze in--it should be docking as we speak."

 

"Madam President," Starbuck said standing at the threshold of her office door with that insufferably smug smile.

 

"I'll get you for this, Admiral," she said threateningly as she tried to suppress her smile.

 

"I'm looking forward to it, Madam President," he returned with twinkling eyes.

 

She followed Starbuck with a chuckle, conscious of the relief she sensed in the people who knew she was going to _Voyager_ for treatment. She'd known them for less than two years, yet there was an undeniable bond because they were her people, no matter what the circumstances under which she'd acquired them.

 

She smiled at Starbuck as they reached the flight deck-- _Pegasus_ was back on line and all ships should be back on line within the next twenty-four hours, so they should be able to move out within a few days. Janeway's people had been working like demons as they dealt with the ships' technical problems and according to Adama's people, their knowledge of the ships' systems seemed nearly inexhaustible. When asked, they would only reply that they had experience with a number of ship designs and propulsion systems.

 

Laura smiled at the white-suited figure that peered curiously down the opposite corridor and was pleasantly surprised to recognise Tom Paris when he turned around. "President Roslin," he said smiling and greeting them with outstretched hand. "Lieutenant Commander Tom Paris at your service."

 

As they shook hands, Roslin said, “Commander Paris, I believe you know Starbuck--Captain Kara Thrace?”

 

They shook hands grinning at each other. “Great to finally meet you,” Starbuck said.

 

“Definitely!” Paris replied. "I have environmental suits for the two of you," he said bending to open the large case beside him. "You'll only need to wear them in your shuttlebay, but you can keep them sealed while we travel if you're more comfortable. The suits are expandable to a point to fit most frames--so they’ll be just fine. Don't worry; there'll be plenty of oxygen."

 

He worked quickly and efficiently to get them into the comfortable suits for the short trek across the airless, deserted flight deck. She could feel Paris' pride as they approached the young man’s extraordinary little craft. The back of seemingly seamless hull opened, lowering slowly to the deck to form a ramp. They made their way inside and Laura found herself in the small cockpit itself as Paris closed the hatch. There were two chairs under the transparent dome, and an array of bewildering instruments. Paris moved to escort her to the gunner’s chair just behind the pilot's seat, before unsealing his helmet with deft movements.

 

"Welcome aboard _Hot Rod_. President Roslin, you may sit here," he said almost apologetically. "Sorry about the cramped space. Starbuck, I'm afraid all I can offer you is standing room--there's a grab-ring just above your head, and I'll adjust the magnetic force-coils in your boots."

 

"Thank you, that'll be fine," Starbuck said, removing the helmet and reaching for the ring he'd indicated. Paris took Kara’s hand and adjusted the control panel on her wrist.

 

"Try to move your legs," he ordered, and Starbuck’s foot came away with an audible _snick!_ "Good, that should keep you stable--it's only a seven minute ride."

 

"Can you help me remove my helmet," Laura asked as Paris fastened the seat belt across her lap and he smiled as he manipulated the suit controls before removing the helmet.

 

Paris sat in his seat and pulled the harness about him. "Well here we go--" and suddenly the vastness of space was literally above Laura's head as she looked out of the dome and gasped in awe.

 

"An impressive sight isn't it?" Paris asked with twinkling eyes as Laura Roslin gaped at him speechlessly. His hands flew across his boards with an ease that spoke of years of experience. "Paris to _Voyager_ , I've cleared _Galactica_ \--ETA in 6.38 minutes."

 

"Acknowledged Commander, you are cleared for docking in the shuttlebay."

 

"Thanks, Lieutenant Ayala, Paris out." He smiled indulgently at Laura's awestruck face and grinned back at Starbuck.

 

"Are you comfortable, Madam President?" Starbuck asked cheekily.

 

"Yes, I'm fine," was the hoarse answer; Laura forced herself to swallow her terror.

 

"I know it can be overwhelming and a little disorienting to be sitting almost in thin space, but the Cobras are tougher than they appear."

 

"Thank you, I'll be ok," Laura replied more confidently as a strange sight came into view. The ship was like nothing Laura had ever seen, but come to think of it, the entire episode was like nothing Laura Roslin had ever seen, let alone experienced.

 

"That is _Voyager_?" she asked in disbelief and he chuckled.

 

"It's so tiny, Paris,” Starbuck gasped. “I can't believe that towed so many ships behind it!"

 

"Well believe it or not, the Cobras towed your transports, Starbuck, and the Delta Flyers and our shuttles towed quite a few of the larger ships," he laughed. "That's a shuttle up ahead," he said pointing to the sleek little craft that had been ferrying the Colonials all day. It had to low slung pods with a strip of blue light on each. "Would you like a tour of _Voyager's_ hull?" he invited with sparkling eyes.

 

"Please," Laura breathed in reply as he chuckled softly.

 

"Paris to _Voyager_ , permission to give President Roslin a tour of _Voyager's_ hull."

 

Janeway's image flashed onto a virtual screen floating mid-air in front of Paris, startling Laura. "All right, Tom, but no antics," Janeway warned and he nodded. "Enjoy your tour, President Roslin, and I'll see you when you dock."

 

"Thank you, Captain," Laura replied and the image winked out of existence. "That's impressive technology."

 

Tom chuckled, "It's not bad--actually we were surprised by the level of your technology as well."

 

“Not favourably from what I saw of Ms Hansen,” Laura replied wryly.

 

Paris made a face. “Yeah well, Annika tends to be a bit of a technocrat,” he replied. "It's the nature of the beast. But the efficiency of your jump engines--according to Harry and B’Elanna--is really out there! We'll begin with the saucer section," he said as they ran along the hull of the small, elegant ship. "We're approaching deck one where the bridge is located. Many of the living areas are situated in the saucer section, as well as heavily shielded areas such as sickbay."

 

Laura focussed on six small bumps on the saucer as they moved aft.

 

"Those are Cobras!" Starbuck yelped in surprise, looking at the tiny grey ships nestled against _Voyager's_ hull.

 

"Space is at a premium in the shuttlebay," Paris answered. "Therefore, there are docking berths on the outer hull for the Cobras, so _Voyager_ can carry them as parasites without any problems with shield configuration or her ablative battle armour. It also makes deployment of them rather quick. There is an umbilical port at each docking position, which our pilots can access to board quickly."

 

"Ingenious," Starbuck breathed.

 

Paris continued the tour. "This section we're coming up on houses main engineering and aft of that is the shuttlebay," he said as it came into view and Tom pivoted the ship so that Laura could peer into it. To her surprise, she could see people disembarking even though it appeared open to space. Tom Paris chuckled as if he could read Laura's mind. "Don't worry, President Roslin, there's a force field to protect the people in the shuttlebay--there's no danger that they'll be exposed to the vacuum of space."

 

Laura nodded as their guide continued down to a position to view the belly of _Voyager_. "Those two low-slung pods are part of Voyager's propulsion system called nacelles--and along the rest of the belly are sensors, instruments and more weapons again. I'll take us back to the shuttlebay now," he said softly.

 

"It's impressive and I can honestly say I've never seen anything like her," Laura complimented as they moved to approach the shuttlebay once more.

 

"Your shuttles also have nacelle drives?" Starbuck asked curiously.

 

"Yes, but their propulsion systems are vastly weaker than _Voyager's_ ," Paris answered. "The Cobras and Delta Flyers have what we call wing nacelles and impulse thrusters for sublight speeds--I'm afraid I can't say much more than that."

 

"That's fine, Commander Paris," Laura said quietly.

 

"Prepare for docking, President Roslin, Starbuck," he said.

 

"What about the force field and the people still in there?" Starbuck said in apprehension as they approached the shuttlebay.

 

"Don't worry, Starbuck," Paris laughed merrily. "It's a differential force field," he said as they passed through the shimmering phenomenon that slowly made its way over the transparent dome. "Cobra in, vacuum out," he chuckled as they manoeuvred into position, hovered above the floor, and then slowly came to a rest without the slightest jolt. His hands raced over the boards for a moment and the viewport became opaque before he announced with a grin, "Power-down is complete. Well, President Roslin, welcome to _Voyager_ \--if you'll follow me, the Captain is waiting."

 

Laura gathered up her helmet and followed Paris through the small hatch at the back of the Cobra cockpit again. As she ducked out, she came face to face with the Captain of the marvellous ship.

 

"President Roslin," Janeway said warmly, her blue eyes dancing. "I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway, welcome to _Voyager_. May I present Commander Chakotay, my First Officer," she said indicating to the tall man beside her.

 

"Thank you, Captain Janeway, Commander Chakotay," Laura replied sincerely as she shook their hands in turn. "May I present Captain Kara Thrace."

 

"Ah," Chakotay said grinning as they shook hands, “the infamous Starbuck.”

 

“I see you’ve made an impression already, Captain Thrace,” Laura quipped.

 

Starbuck had the good grace to blush. “Just keeping the lines of communications open, Ma’am,” she replied.

 

“I sense a good story there,” Chakotay laughed.

 

“A long story,” Laura said gently as she met Starbuck’s gaze and remembered that day she’d suborned the young woman’s loyalty away from Adama and sent her back to Caprica … and possible death.

 

"I look forward to hearing it, Madam President," Janeway replied with a broad smile, "or should I address you as President Roslin?" she asked with sudden concern as a chuckle escaped Chakotay. "I'm afraid I was never good at political protocol."

 

"Please, it's just Laura," she said in embarrassment as they moved out of the shuttlebay towards a lift. "Less than two years ago, I was just plain Laura Roslin, Secretary of Education for the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, and forty-third in line for the presidency. Before that I was an elementary school teacher who didn't know what a politician was from a hole in the ground."

 

"It seems that you’ve learned quickly--and it's Kathryn," Janeway replied with a chuckle.

 

"Sounds like you've had an interesting life," Chakotay said with a grin. "I look forward to hearing more, but if you'll excuse me, Captain, Madam President, I have an appointment in engineering." He gave a courteous bow and continued down the hall as Laura and Starbuck entered the lift with Janeway and Paris.

 

“I still can’t believe how small _Voyager_ is, yet she was able to tow all those ships,” Starbuck said and the captain chuckled softly.

 

It was Paris who answered her. “She may be tiny, but she packs a big punch,” the young man laughed. “Rather like her Captain here.”

 

“Tom.” The warning in Janeway’s voice was plain.

 

“I guess size really doesn’t matter,” Starbuck quipped roguishly.

 

“Starbuck!” Laura said in shock as the others burst into gales of laughter; after a moment she joined them. They laughed until the lift door opened and followed _Voyager’s_ captain into the corridor.

 

#

 


	6. Victor/Victoria

By the time they reached the sickbay, the laughter had subsided.

 

"President Roslin, I would like you to meet _Voyager's_ doctor," Janeway said introducing her to the pleasant-faced, balding man.

 

"How do you do, doctor," Laura began in puzzlement as she held out her hand.

 

"You may call me Victor," the doctor replied pleasantly, "or Dr. Victor Zimmerman if you prefer."

 

Laura continued to puzzle over this enigma of a man as she realized in shock, she couldn't feel his emotions--it was as if he wasn't there. This empathy was new for her and Cottle believed that it and the residual flashes of visions she still got were side-effects of her use of Chamala extract.

 

"Is something wrong, Laura," Kathryn asked, puzzled at her reaction.

 

"President Roslin?" Starbuck was instantly wary and interposed her body between Laura and Janeway. There was no mistaking it now; Adama had sent her as Laura’s bodyguard.

 

"It's all right, Kara," Laura said taking a deep breath. "Doctor, may I ask what species you are?" she asked quietly as she regarded Janeway and Victor. She could feel Janeway’s, Paris’ and Starbuck's shock, but although the doctor seemed to be equally surprised, she felt nothing from him. "You appear to be human--but it's hard to explain. You see, for about six months, I was on a certain drug to battle my cancer.”

 

“Chamala extract, according to Dr. Cottle,” _Voyager’s_ doctor said quietly.

 

“Yes,” Laura replied. “While I was on it, it induced visions related to the prophecies of Pythia, an ancient seer--”

 

“Her visions were how we found the map to Earth in the Tomb of Athena back on Kobol,” Starbuck said seeing their shock.

 

“I see,” Janeway replied. “What has this to do with my doctor?”

 

“I still get flashes of things every now and then, but there was another side effect--not many people know--it left me with the ability to sense people, their emotions and their desires,” she explained quietly. “I didn’t realize it was there at first, but as I’ve become used to it, I sense some people better than others. But I can usually get a resonance of a presence from everyone. That presence is very faint when I'm in Lieutenant Vorik's presence, but I assumed that was because he's an alien--a Vulcan. From you however, doctor, I register nothing and it’s given me a bit of a shock."

 

She could feel their surprise skyrocket as well as Janeway's immense bewilderment as she regarded her doctor, who began to chuckle softly.

 

"Well, Captain," he said in amusement. "We've been busted, Ma'am, and I think it would be simpler if you just explained."

 

Kathryn closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep, sighing breath as she rubbed her forehead as if to smooth away her conflicted emotions. Laura could tell that she was about to reveal something that she'd never had any intention of revealing and she could feel Athena's overwhelming concern for her Captain.

 

"Good Lord," Janeway said at last making up her mind, shaking her head tiredly as she opened her eyes. "This was supposed to be a simple rescue operation to correct an accidental interference. Laura, the reason you aren’t sensing the Doctor is because he isn't an organic lifeform--"

 

Laura stared at this perfect replica of a man in apprehension, while Starbuck gaped at them in shock.

 

"The Doctor is an artificial lifeform, an autonomous, sentient, holographic person--"

 

She reached out and tapped a small device on his sleeve, and to Laura's dismay, the man disappeared. Kathryn smiled wryly.

 

"The Doctor exists as a program in our computers and cannot exist where there are no holographic emitters--except if he's wearing this portable emitter," she said indicating to the tiny device in her palm. "Our medical personnel died over ten years ago in a terrible encounter with an alien who kidnapped this ship, left us stranded far from the Federation as a result and left over a third of my crew dead. Since then we have been struggling to get back to our home--"

 

Laura could feel the deep sorrow welling up in the woman as she re-activated the Doctor, who shimmered back into existence.

 

"And since then the Doctor has been our Chief Medical Officer and he's given us exemplary service and care. He was meant to be a supplement and support to our medical team, but he's had to learn to be far more than the sum of his programming and I'm proud to count him as one of my finest officers," she said simply as the Doctor beamed proudly. "I know how this looks and I understand what the Cylons did to you, but Victor is nothing like a Cylon. I don't know how this will affect your people when they find out, both those who have been treated and those still to be treated, but to us, being an artificial lifeform doesn't make him any less of a physician or a person."

 

"No it doesn't," Laura agreed quietly, swallowing her fears as she extended her hand to the doctor. "I'm pleased to meet you, Victor," she said as she shook his hand.

 

"Likewise, President Roslin," he said gravely, "and I hope to be able to help you." She nodded pleasantly as her emotions settled and she caught Paris' devilish grin; _Voyager_ was a veritable cornucopia of technological marvels! "As you know my true nature, I am able to offer you a choice between a male physician … Victor … or a female …"

 

He shimmered before her eyes and was instantly a pleasant, middle-aged, brown haired woman to Laura's surprise.

 

"...Victoria," she finished.

 

Laura chuckled and shook her head as the holographic woman smiled at her expectantly. "No offence Victoria, but Victor is fine with me," she replied.

 

"No offence taken, President Roslin," Victoria replied. "We are the same person after all," she said and shifted back to the male form. "Victor is modelled on my creator, Dr. Louis Zimmerman, while Victoria is modelled on a famous Starfleet doctor from a century ago, Dr. Christine Chapel. We added her to my subroutines a couple of years ago, as some of my female patients seemed to prefer a female physician. Well shall we get started," Victor said as he guided her over to the bed. "Mr. Paris, would you please assist the President, and prep the primary sensor cluster for a deep scan?"

 

"Yes Doctor," Paris replied, helping Laura to peel off her spacesuit. He chuckled at her surprise. "Did I forget to mention that I’m also a medic?" he said roguishly.

 

"Laura, will you join me for dinner in two hours?" Kathryn asked.

 

"Doctor?" she queried.

 

"We should be done the first rounds of scans by then and worked out a nutritional supplement regimen," he replied looking up in surprise from the scan he was taking with some kind of hand-held instrument. "Dr. Cottle wasn't kidding, was he? What in God's name have you been eating, Ms Roslin?" he asked in outrage.

 

"Next to nothing," Starbuck supplied quietly.

 

"It was difficult to keep anything down for a long time and I haven’t had much of an appetite since my recovery. I hate wasting food--others have to eat as well," Laura replied in embarrassment and Kathryn nodded; there was understanding in her eyes.

 

"Well, on the plus side your metabolism appears quite efficient, so you _should_ put on weight easily, but you're going to have to follow my supplement regimen to the letter," he said sternly.

 

"Yes doctor," she submitted meekly and Kathryn chuckled.

 

"I'll leave you in the Doctor's capable hands then--Tom will you guide her to the bridge when she's finished?" she asked and the young man nodded. "The mess hall will be quite crowded, so we can have dinner in the briefing room."

 

"I'll send a list of her nutritional requirements to the kitchen, Captain," the Doctor said.

 

"I'll see to their preparation," Paris added. "Mother Atawsio should have supplies for most of them in the kitchen, and whatever she doesn't have I'll get from the ’ponics garden or out of … ah … storage."

 

"All right, Captain," the doctor said in an amazingly dry tone. "Unless you want me to start scanning you and lecturing you on _your_ unfortunate tendency to skip meals, I'd suggest you get out of here and leave me to my patient."

 

"Aye, aye doctor," Kathryn replied with a comic shudder. "That is something I definitely do not want. See you later, Laura," she called as she left.

 

"Later, Kathryn," Laura replied as the Doctor indicated she should lie down.

 

"I'm going to run a microcellular scan now," he said as the sides of the bed moved up, arching over her and meeting in the middle. "And while that's running, I'll see what I can find out about the blood cell abnormalities Dr. Cottle was so worried about."

 

"Thank you, Victor," she said quietly. Her head told her that she could trust Kathryn Janeway … trust them, but looking at the Doctor, she couldn’t help the chill that ran down her back or the clenching in her gut. She was beginning to see that these people trusted their machines way too much, but at the moment, beggars couldn’t afford to be choosers. Taking another deep breath, Laura forced herself to relax.

 

#

 


	7. Talks of Home

Kathryn shuddered, wishing she could just indulge in the relief of a simple hug, but Chakotay--though they still tried hard to maintain their friendship--was married to Seven of Nine and was no longer available for even such simple, non-threatening intimacies.

 

God, what a disaster this day had turned out to be and she'd been going for nearly twenty hours straight. She sighed as she took another deep draught of her coffee.

 

"Feeling better," Chakotay asked.

 

"Mmm, much better," she replied softly. "Good Lord, what a day," she said tiredly as they sat down on the couch together. The large, ungainly ships floated past her window as she gazed out at them. "How do we get ourselves into these situations, Chakotay?"

 

"We work hard at it," he laughed. "And you know what they say, Kathryn … it's Starfleet, weird is part of the job." She laughed heartily as he unconsciously echoed the old adage. She rolled her head from side to side, feeling some of her tension dissipate. "Anyway, our crack engineering teams have been busy beavers surreptitiously scanning anything and everything and I have to tell you, from B'Elanna's excitement, they may very well have components we need, or ones we can adapt to suit our needs," he said soberly. "I think you should seriously consider President Roslin's offer, Kathryn."

 

"I am," she said softly. “Don’t worry, I am.”

 

"Well, from the Doctor’s report, the patients he’s treated should all recover," he continued more cheerfully. "Furthermore, they’re all human, unlike the Cylon cadaver Dr. Cottle sent over for our study; the Doctor’s already found some interesting nano-tech he plans to go over with Annika. Their computers may be less sophisticated, but whatever these people are and wherever they’ve come from, they've simply moved off on a different technological track than we did--into hyperspace jump technology instead of subspace warp technology, but it may not necessarily mean anything in terms of sophistication. Granted, warp technology would be extremely dangerous to them and we have to be careful, but I think for the most part Adama and Roslin will be mindful of the limits you wish to set."

 

"I get the same feeling too," she said quietly. "I just hope they can keep their people in line. Anyway, I did manage to persuade Admiral Adama to give me their next set of jump coordinates and it’s faily close to a Type 2 hyperspace instability--and well, put hyperspace and subspace together, mix in a little anti-matter and you get an extremely big _bang_!" she said wryly.

 

"How far away is it?" he asked.

 

"Approximately twenty-seven light years," she replied. "Twelve days at warp 9.5 using conventional warp and twelve hours if we generate a slipstream--if we want to risk another one."

 

"There's nothing wrong with the technology, Kathryn," he reassured her, "only with bullies like the Dii'Qorcho. No one here is going to detonate a multiphasic quantum torpedo in our path. We have just enough reserve power to generate a couple more," he told her softly. "After that we'll have to deal with a mighty angry Klingon," he chuckled and she laughed with him.

 

"Don't remind me," she quipped. "I've been getting black looks over towing those ships. Tom will be escorting Laura Roslin to the bridge in a few minutes--let me talk to her and perhaps sleep on it. Anyway, the Delta Flyers have stocked us up on duterium and other goodies from the third planet in this system."

 

"The operative word here is sleep, Kathryn," he said firmly and she nodded. "You should go off duty directly after--"

 

"Sickbay to Janeway," the Doctor's voice interrupted him. "Mr. Paris just left with President Roslin."

 

"Thank you, Victor," Kathryn replied as they rose and headed for the door. "We're all ready up here--Atawsio set the table a few minutes ago with everything you recommended for her. How did the therapy go?"

 

"Very well," he replied as they exited onto the bridge. "It seems that the hybrid Cylon child had nano-probes that were blank of programming beyond DNA and tissue repair. Understandably, Ms Roslin wants the probes out as soon as possible, and flushing them out of her system shouldn’t be a problem, but I want to make sure that her systems can handle the purge before I attempt it. I'll know more once I'm finished my analysis. Sickbay out."

 

Kathryn smiled at Chakotay when the lift opened a moment later and Laura stepped onto the bridge with Paris and Starbuck. Kathryn went forward to greet her. "Hello, President Roslin," she said quietly. "Welcome to the bridge."

 

"Thank you, Captain Janeway," Laura replied enthusiastically as she looked around curiously. "It is indeed an honour."

 

"Commander Chakotay, you have the bridge," Kathryn said formally as Chakotay took the command chair.

 

"Aye, Captain," he replied and she turned to Roslin and Starbuck.

 

"Captain Thrace, perhaps Tom could show you to the mess hall while President Roslin and I dine," she said.

 

"Thank you, Captain Janeway," Starbuck replied smiling, taking up her post opposite _Voyager’s_ security personnel. "But Tom was kind enough to provide me with a meal while I waited for President Roslin to complete her therapy."

 

"Understood, Captain Thrace," she replied with a courteous nod and gestured to Laura to precede her. "My, she's rather fierce," she commented with a smile as the door closed and she led Laura to the head of the table.

 

"I must apologize for Starbuck," she said softly as Kathryn indicated she should sit next to her on the left at far end of the long conference table. “I didn’t realize that Admiral Adama had assigned her as my bodyguard until we were in sickbay--Admiral Adama tends to do things “for my own good” without telling me. Please forgive any unintended insult.”

 

She sank into the comfortable chair as Kathryn chuckled and began to uncover the dishes. "Not at all, Laura," she laughed. "Why do you think there are two security personnel outside this door? You haven't met Tuvok yet--but believe me, nothing compares to a very precise, very unemotional Vulcan security chief. Between him, Chakotay, Atawsio and the Doctor, it's a wonder I'm able to go to the bathroom alone," she said and Laura laughed as her tensions dissipated.

 

"You have young children aboard, Kathryn?" she asked in astonishment, gesturing to a brightly finger-painted picture on the table as she settled in her chair.

 

"Yes," Kathryn replied as she poured them each a glass of pale blue Hanaran ceremonial wine the ever-resourceful Paris had picked up on shoreleave earlier that year, from a delicately wrought crystal carafe. "Being out here for over ten years with no support from home, leads to the inevitable, Laura," she said. "Most people have paired off and many have children--it wasn't something I could deny them. Back in the Federation, having children on a small ship like _Voyager_ was not an issue, but we had a lifetime of travel before us. One of my officers had become pregnant before _Voyager_ was taken--at home it was a simple thing to put in for a transfer with her husband to an assignment where they could be together. Her child was her last link to her husband and they had been trying for some time. It wasn't my place to dictate to her what to do about it--it was up to her whether she wanted to bring a child into our situation, as it's been up to … to those who've decided to have children.”

 

Kathryn’s voice caught on a painful note and Laura studied her drawn face. After a moment, she cleared her throat. “We love our children," Kathryn said simply as she met Laura’s gaze again.

 

"I understand, Kathryn," Laura said softly. "One of my first dictates to Adama was that we needed to get as far away from the Colonies as possible and start having babies--you can imagine how that went over." They shared a chuckle and she sampled her wine. "What is this?" she asked, surprised at the taste.

 

"Hanaran ceremonial wine," Janeway replied as they began to eat. "An alien delicacy; between that incurable rogue, Tom Paris, Mr. Chell and Malaquier--a security officer we sort of picked up last year; she has … well she has a rather colourful past--we've managed to supplement our stores quite nicely. Paris has managed to keep a number of clandestine games of chance going, can generally find a man, who knows a man, who can get what most people need and on holidays manages to spike the punch with some good cheer--and it's good fun for the crew as long as he doesn't go too overboard."

 

"I know all about incurable rogues," Laura laughed. "I wouldn't be here without the chief among rogues, Starbuck--" she smiled wryly. "And of course there’s Chief Tyrol who has a still in one of his machine shops,” she said laughing as Kathryn gaped at her in complete shock, “and named a prototype fighter he built after me. Then there's Dualla," she continued. "Your systems are frustrating the hell out of her--she can't even find _Voyager_ since Paris repaired his Cobra."

 

"I know," Kathryn chuckled. "Tell her she's up against the best in the business, Seven of Nine, Annika Hansen. Borg encryption alphanumerics are notoriously hard nuts to crack."

 

"Oh Lords," Laura giggled. "You don't want to give these young people a challenge, believe me. Between her, Lieutenant Gaeta … all of them, they are very effective," she said. "They've kept us ahead of the Cylons--especially the Viper pilots and the deck crews. So many good people died to save us," she soberly. "And I've personally put some of them in danger time and again because I either didn't know what I was doing or I had no choice. And then there are those I ordered left behind because to stay with them meant death for everyone else."

 

"I know," Kathryn replied quietly.

 

"Do you?" Laura asked looking down at her plate and toying with her food.

 

"Yes," Kathryn replied, placing her hand on her shoulder. Laura looked up bleakly as Kathryn spoke, "My crew have placed themselves in terrible jeopardy a number of times to get us out of some bad situations and some of them never made it out. And then there are those you lose," Kathryn said hoarsely as their faces floated before her. "Those you lose because you're not fast enough or good enough, wise enough or just plain too ignorant to keep them from being brutally hurt or killed. On a small ship like this you get to know everyone after ten years; there’s nowhere to transfer to. Despite every layer you put between them and your heart, you get to be so close to everyone and then you have to send your friends out there, possibly to die. And you tell yourself it is necessary for the good of the ship. So many have died over the years, Laura, and so many more may die because they follow me in what may ultimately be a futile attempt to get home."

 

"That's the way I felt yesterday the moment your slipstream phenomenon hit," Laura said smiling wanly. "That I'd killed fifty thousand people; that I'd passed up a habitable planet--Baltar's _New Caprica_ \--and brought the last remnants of my civilisation out here to die in a futile attempt to find a new home, a safe home … Earth. But it wasn't futile."

 

"No it wasn't," Kathryn replied as they resumed their meal. "You'll find them a home, Laura." She could see Laura's surprise at her statement, but she said nothing as they finished their meal in companionable silence. Laura smiled in delight at the large bowls of mousse Kathryn uncovered.

 

 _Voyager's_ captain chuckled. "At the risk of spoiling it for you, yours is chocolate and enriched with a number of supplements the Doctor had the kitchen add--and mine is coffee flavoured."

 

"Don't tell me you're a coffee-swilling barbarian!" Laura teased.

 

"Barbarian?" Kathryn said in outrage as she began her dessert and Laura sighed appreciatively as she tasted hers. "I'll have you know, coffee is _the_ only civilized drink," she sniffed indignantly.

 

"Civilized hah!" Laura laughed. "It never ceases to amaze me how something that smells so good, can be so vile and unpalatable. A cup in the morning to wake me up is as much as I can usually stand, but _Galactica’s_ officers drink it like water. I prefer chamomile tea, though it's impossible to find in the Fleet now."

 

"You--" Kathryn said pointing her spoon at Laura, "have uneducated tastebuds."

 

"Then ignorance is bliss," Laura teased as Kathryn joined her giggles.

 

"Oh Lord," Kathryn said catching her breath. "They must be wondering on the bridge what the hell is going on in here--"

 

"Tuvok to Janeway." Kathryn looked at Laura and they burst into another gale of laughter. "Captain, is everything all right?" came the concerned voice.

 

"Speak of the devil," Kathryn whispered. "Janeway here," she said trying to control her urge to laugh. "I'm fine, Commander--the President and I were just having a chat."

 

"I see, Captain, well enjoy your chat--Tuvok out."

 

"See what I mean about Vulcan security chiefs?" she laughed. "I've known Tuvok for close to fifteen years and he's more of a mother hen than my own mother."

 

"I know exactly what you mean," Laura said. "My aide, Billy, is--was exactly the same way." Kathryn nodded silently and waited for her to continue. "There are times when you try to do your job to the best of your ability and things happen--then suddenly you're the leader of the remnants of humanity. I knew politics, but I was only the Secretary of Education, for crying out loud," she said hoarsely. "I didn't want to be President--not at that moment, but there was no one else. I knew President Adar, we were good friends … had been lovers …"

 

"I'm sorry," Kathryn said.

 

"Thanks," she replied, toying with her wine glass. "Actually, I never meant to reveal that much, but one explanation leads to another ..." Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

 

"I know what you mean," Kathryn returned wryly. "It's been a long time since I've been able to talk to someone who isn't a part of my crew about the things that matter. I didn't mean to reveal as much as I did in sickbay. Believe me, all the lies I could have told to explain away the Doctor just fled, simply because you wanted to know. There were ways I could have explained him without revealing that we're trying to make our way home after being taken and dumped unfathomable years away from all that was familiar and have been on our own for over a decade."

 

Kathryn grimaced; there were tears in her eyes. "I arrogantly made a vow ten years ago that I was going to get them home--instead, here we are, still struggling to get back. I've watched so many die, yet I keep going, pushing them on and I’m deathly afraid that there's a breaking point somewhere and one day, I'll lose them all--"

 

She took a deep breath and smiled at Laura as she sat back in her chair, "But not today, Laura, not today. Anyway, I've given your offer a great deal of thought, and I must say that I can't really afford to turn your generosity down. We need very desperately to re-supply and hopefully to refit. But I know, no matter your good intentions, Laura, you couldn't possibly afford all that--however, I have an alternate way that you can help us if you still wish to."

 

"Most definitely, Kathryn," Laura said sincerely. "What's your idea?"

 

"As Chakotay has pointed out to me, your society is definitely not as backward technologically as it first appeared," Kathryn began. "So I will request your help in manufacturing components my ship will need. The problem is that our societies veered off on totally different technological tracks--in fact they're so incompatible, that if I tried to take my ship into a hyperspace jump like your ships do, it would blow up."

 

Laura looked at her in consternation and shock as she chuckled wryly again. "Mixing hyperspace technologies and what we call subspace technologies simply can't be done because they're on the theoretical opposite ends of the spectrum--I've known of societies who've tried and destroyed their ships, sometimes entire worlds because of it. I'm afraid that I'm guilty of a sort of snobbishness that seems endemic to people who use our technologies--we may be relatively fast in normal space, but over vast distances, hyperspace jumping may actually be more efficient if you can conquer it, which you've most certainly done. The problem is calculating jumps that go where you want to go, avoiding stellar bodies and blindly jumping into unknown territory. The advantage of my system is that I can travel between here and virtually any point in space, not having to follow an essentially blind jump path through hyperspace--" Laura gaped at her as she continued. "It allows me the flexibility I need if I'm to deal with most of the species I meet in deep space, to change direction when I want or simply get out of the way very quickly."

 

"How long will it take you to get to the next jump exit?" Laura asked with a breathless curiosity.

 

"With my conventional warp propulsion system at velocities my ship can tolerate for any extended time, about twelve days," she said as Laura gasped.

 

"And that's travelling strictly in normal space?" she asked in disbelief; she didn't understand much about jumping, but she knew this was extraordinary.

 

"At the most basic level, yes," Kathryn replied. "However, our long-distance drive is the coaxial slipstream--it's generated and controlled by my ship's engine and deflector at an interface layer between n-space and subspace and it would take only twelve hours. It's much slower than other quantum slipstream technologies on which it's based, but in the end, more stable and easier for us to control."

 

Again Laura gaped at her in utter disbelief.

 

"Believe me, it is a relatively safe technology, as far as any space faring technology goes, but we only finished developing it six months ago--it took us the better part of two years to get it working. However, when we used it this time, an enemy detonated a weapon in our path as we went to slipstream--it opened a subspace rift, drawing us in, which is why we ended up where we did and why the slipstream wavefront got out of control before we could fully dissipate it. Laura," she said gazing deeply into the other woman's eyes. "Little more than twenty-four hours ago, I was over two thousand light years from this area of space."

 

There were a few moments of stunned silence and Janeway swivelled in her chair to look out the window as she swallowed the sobs that rose in her. "You're telling the truth aren't you?" Laura asked softly. "There's a lot you're leaving out, but you're telling the truth about that."

 

"Yes," Kathryn whispered hoarsely. She closed her eyes tightly to steady herself as she continued. "Believe me, there's so much I want to tell you--I wish I could tell you. I've barely known you a day, yet it is so tempting to unburden my soul to you, but if I make one mistake here, I could damage your people _and mine_ irreparably, even destroy them--so the Prime Directive must stand for now. Until I fully understand who your people are and why the Cylons are tracking you, why they've started this war, and most importantly, how to completely neutralize the threat they represent, I cannot risk showing you _and them_ the way to Earth."

 

"I understand," Laura whispered.

 

"I will need you and Adama to trust me, Laura," she said reaching for one of the other woman's hands. "I'm sensing a lot of things here that I need answers to--we need to get them cleared up quickly and the only way to do that is to answer my questions and to trust me."

 

"Yes," Laura said quietly--Janeway didn’t know the half of it. "But I'll have to discuss this with Admiral Adama and the Quorum of Twelve. I can't make decisions to compromise our security unilaterally. I've promised William; the last time I did that I incited Lee Adama to mutiny against his father and sent Kara on a suicide mission."

 

"Fair enough," Janeway replied looking at her with new respect. "Now, when we first spoke, you said that you went to Kobol and found the directions to Earth. I won't ask you where you think it is, but my people got the feeling from talking to your people that you think it is fairly close--within relatively few jumps."

 

There was a long silence before Laura replied, "Yes."

 

"We thought as much," Janeway said. She rose and paced the floor, rubbing her brow. "All right, here is my first bit of information for you to take back to Adama and your Quorum of Twelve. We're nowhere close to Earth," she said as Laura's eyes widened in shock. "In fact, we're more than twenty _thousand_ light years away from Earth."

 

"That can't be!" Laura blurted out, her heart sinking to her toes. "The map--"

 

Kathryn crouched and placed a gentle hand on Laura's shoulder. "Don't," she said gently; tears shone in her eyes. "Don't compromise yourself. You've got to talk to your people, but what I'm telling you is the honest truth. We are twenty _thousand_ , three hundred and forty-two light years away from Earth. In fact, before getting pulled here, my ship was only eighteen thousand, one hundred and eighty light years from Earth. The disruption of the slipstream sent us two thousand light years back in the _wrong_ direction. Ten years ago, my crew was kidnapped by a very ancient and powerful alien who was looking for someone to care for an emergent species he felt responsible for. He stranded my ship _seventy_ _thousand_ light years from home with no way to get back but by our wits." Laura couldn't believe what she was hearing, but knew it was the truth.

 

"In the last ten years, I have fought, made pacts with more devils than you can imagine, and found technologies and short cuts that have helped us get closer to home," Kathryn continued. "Fifty thousand light years closer to home. And along the way I’ve done some questionable--even reprehensible--things. However, even with the slipstream technology we've perfected, it would still take us another seven to ten years to get home from here. But I think that your map may be a map not to Earth _per se_ , but to a short cut that can get us home--that can get us _all_ home. If your Lords of Kobol were using the kind of technology that I suspect they were using, I've found three candidate phenomena that I think are at the coordinates you got from Kobol."

 

She picked up a small device from the briefing table and handed it to Laura. "I'd like you to take this back to Admiral Adama and the Quorum," she said quietly as Laura took it with trembling hands. "It's not compatible with your technology, but it will project the information into the air for you--like the holographic technology in Paris' Cobra. It uses this solar system as a reference origin, so your navigators should have no trouble with it. If the correct phenomenon is the one I'm thinking of, then you'll not only have a big problem trying to use that short cut on your own, I will have the answer. In fact, you may also want to tell your Quorum that I may have some knowledge as to who your Lords of Kobol were--"

 

"What do you mean?" Laura asked hoarsely.

 

"I don't mean anything dishonourable," Kathryn replied. "But based on my research into the copy of the Sacred Scrolls and the icons you sent us, we may have reference to them in our archives--the only problem is, they may not be the gods you're looking for and I don't know what a revelation like this will do to your society. I get the impression that your religion is very important to your people."

 

"Even more so now that our worlds are gone."

 

"And I don't want to be the one to destroy that faith in your gods," Kathryn said quietly. "But if the truth of the matter is what I've found in our archives, you may gain Earth and a home, but lose--or at the very least have to re-evaluate--the Lords of Kobol and possibly your scriptures. Are your people ready for that, Laura?"

 

Laura Roslin met the other woman's kind gaze, her emotions in turmoil. "I don't know," she whispered at last.

 

#

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Malaquier is a character I'd developed for another _Star Trek: Voyager_ story _The Phoenix_ , but lost the story when one of my old computers died. I recently found it on a CD back up and posted it here on Archive of Our Own. A few years later, when I was writing this, I re-used the character - what I could remember of her.
> 
> Note 2: Reading this over, I also remembered that I cribbed the cat-like species, the Ajaeri, from another old, unfinished _Voyager_ story I wrote years ago.


	8. Stirring up the Hornets' Nest

Adama smiled at Roslin as he brought the impromptu meeting of Quorum of Twelve on _Galactica_ to order. Because of security, it was closed to the media and the other usual hangers-on. Laura looked better than he'd thought possible after only one day of therapy in _Voyager's_ sickbay. He would have preferred some time to hear in private how her meeting went with Janeway, but she was right; there could be no hint of collusion or impropriety. Everyone should hear the results together--civilian and military leaders.

 

"All right everyone," he said briskly as he regarded them all. "By 21:00 hours, we'll all be ship-shape--main power is on-line and most of us are receiving some unexpected repairs in the process, namely _Galactica's_ railgun damage. However, what I wanted to discuss with you is the fact that Captain Janeway has accepted the President's invitation of help. Despite their seeming wizardry, they have a lot of damage of their own and they can't fashion repair parts out of thin air. Although, given access to raw supplies, they can manufacture what they need and have been doing so for over ten years--"

 

"Ten years?" Tom Zarek, the former prisoner and now representative from Saggitaron asked reflecting everyone's confusion. Laura shot him a glare; he'd been part of Baltar's bid for the presidency, many would say the mastermind behind it. No doubt, had Baltar been successful, Laura thought that perhaps his Vice President would not have waited long before disposing of the good doctor.

 

"According to Captain Janeway, over ten years ago, _Voyager_ was taken by a powerful alien and stranded on the other side of the galaxy, seventy years away from their home," Laura said quietly.

 

"That's preposterous!" Baltar, now once again only the representative for Caprica, said.

 

"No more preposterous than all those aliens on her ship," Adama replied meeting Laura's gaze and knowing that if she believed Janeway, the other woman must have told her the truth. "No more preposterous, Dr. Baltar, than a fleet of tiny ships of an impossible configuration, having enough power to each tow three or four of our ships, and no more preposterous than the precision of those surgical strikes they carried out against those basestars back there."

 

"Tarsis," Laura said with a smile. "How did you like _Voyager's_ Doctor?"

 

"He was great," the new representative from Tauron replied with a grin. "That man has a hell of a sense of humor--he had most of his patients in stitches."

 

"And strictly speaking, Ben, he's not a man," Laura said. "He's an artificial intelligence--"

 

"That's impossible!" Ben Tarsis shouted as they all regarded Laura as if she was mad. "I would have known--I touched him … he treated me for the Gods' sake."

 

"Yes he did," Laura said quietly after a moment. "But the fact still remains, Ben, he is a self-contained, fully autonomous and sentient holographic person--"

 

"Like a _Cylon_ ," Zarek snarled.

 

The silence was deafening before she continued, "No, Mr. Zarek. They have the ability to project holograms of such fine resolution and solidity, that last evening, Captain Thrace and I went for a walk with Captain Janeway, in a park on an alien world that humans of the Federation call Betazed. Then when it was time for me to leave, she simply gave an order--it all vanished into thin air and we were in a yellow grid room, known as a holodeck. The next time you see the Doctor, Ben, ask to see Victoria. He has two forms, a male and a female, but explaining him meant explaining a whole lot of other things. Victor was only meant to be a supplement to their medical staff; instead ten years ago, he _became_ their entire medical staff. When that alien kidnapped them, over a third of Janeway's crew was killed during the passage, including her entire medical staff, her original first officer, more than a quarter of her engineers and science staff. Chakotay was the captain of a renegade ship they had been sent to apprehend and with both of them stranded seventy years from their Federation, they decided to amalgamate their crews and work together."

 

"How did you find all this out, Madam President?" Tarsis asked hoarsely. "I can't believe I've been with a machine all this time."

 

"Janeway volunteered it," Laura replied, but she met Starbuck's thoughtful gaze; she knew that she could trust the young woman’s discretion, she had to. "They can turn him on and off at will, although they do look at him as a sentient person with rights, so unless he's malfunctioning, they do not tamper with his program."

 

"I don't suppose they'd allow us to take a look at him," Baltar said looking off into the distance with an air of abstraction that had become more annoying with time.

 

"No," Laura said smiling sweetly at him. "But while their Doctor is a bit too sensitive for them to allow us to get our sticky little hands on, Captain Janeway has invited invited all of you, if you so wish, to visit the holodeck over the next day. She also said to warn you that her resident computer genius grew up thinking in scores of alien computer languages, while the rest of them are not so shabby either."

 

"Annika Hansen?" Baltar said.

 

"Annika Hansen, Seven of Nine," Laura confirmed with a grin. "Anyway, Captain Thrace, I’m told that you are acquainted with one Ensign Melaquier?"

 

"Ah--yes Ma'am," Starbuck said meeting Laura's gaze in surprise. "I was talking to Tom Paris and the subject of Malaquier and Mr. Chell came up--"

 

"Kathryn and I rather thought so," Laura laughed.

 

"Who are they?" Adama asked curiously.

 

"Let's just put it this way, Admiral Adama," Laura chuckled delightedly. "Janeway has _three_ Starbucks running around on her ship--our friend Lieutenant Commander Tom Paris, an alien male named Chell, and an alien female named Malaquier. Between the three of them, they contrive to keep _Voyager's_ crew supplied with all the little necessities, which if they're not strictly like the variety the crew is used to, they come pretty darned close--as those of you who've sampled their cuisine know. Apparently, no matter what alien society they come upon, you can trust at least one of those three to figure out who are the people to know if you need to acquire certain things. I take it, Starbuck, you've taken it on yourself to supply Paris with information pertaining to where he can find the necessities of life within the Fleet--even those that are not, shall we say strictly above board?" she asked as the room erupted in laughter.

 

"We've discussed a few things, but nothing's firmed up yet, Ma'am," Kara replied, her face reddening.

 

"And what, pray tell, has Mr. Paris been bargaining with?" Laura asked point blank.

 

"Nothing technological, Ma'am," Starbuck said hurriedly. "His captain seems to have a nose for when he's crossed the line," she said and Adama broke into helpless laughter. "But there has been some mention of few ah--alien delicacies, namely moon-ripened Talaxian champagne, Zartakan Sunrises, Betazoid Whipped Chocolates and Bajoran Raktochino, as well as a jewel called Marixian Teardrops, and fine Cuban cigars. A small sample of the chocolate, some raktochino and a bottle of champagne were exchanged for a bottle of Caprica Gold Ambrosia when Paris came to collect you, Ma'am," she said shame-facedly.

 

"I see," Laura chuckled as the rest looked at Starbuck in disbelief. "And are they worth it may I ask?"

 

Starbuck squirmed then grinned at Roslin. "Ah--yes, Ma'am, most definitely. I would say those Betazoids definitely have a way with chocolates, Ma'am, while raktochino coffee--though it isn't strictly coffee--is all the rage in the Federation, which is why they were so well stocked in it in the first place and I can see why. And if the Teardrops live up to Blue's billing, she could corner the market on precious stones."

 

"Blue?" Adama asked curiously.

 

"Malaquier, sir," Starbuck answered with a grin. "She's a gold-skinned, blue-haired alien they apparently picked up last year on a world called Marixia--she's something of an adventurer and is one of their security personnel."

 

"This has got to be a record even for you, Starbuck," Lee laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.

 

"Believe me, Apollo," Starbuck replied. "Those three know their way around--anyway Paris opened the lines of communication."

 

"And what is a Zartakan Sunrise?" Adama rumbled humorously.

 

"A sort of spirituous libation from the planet Zartak Four, Sir," Starbuck replied roguishly. "It’s an aperatif and its ingredients have to be mixed at the right temperature and in the right order, or it all evaporates--apparently the sublimation point has to be tailored to the person's body temperature at that moment or you don't get the full effect of the sunrise. Of course you get the full effect of the sunset the next morning, but it generally dissipates within an hour, leaving one with a sense of euphoria, Sir."

 

"Of course," Laura said, her mouth twitching humorously. "Anyway, they won't be able to jump with us when we do and will have to use their own propulsion systems to get to the exit coordinates."

 

"Why not?" Baltar asked curiously. "Their ship is obviously sophisticated."

 

"The way Janeway explained it, the principles their ship uses are incompatible with hyperspace," Laura answered soberly. "They use principles based on something called subspace. If they try to go anywhere near hyperspace without special precautions, their ship will blow up. However, when it comes to scanning, their ship's sensors can see hundreds of light years in any direction they can communicate with ships over vast distances, so they can warn us of any Cylon ships even if we have to wait for them at the coordinates."

 

"That's impossible!" Baltar protested in shock.

 

"I really wish everyone would stop saying that," she said tiredly. "Believe me, Captain Janeway is a very smart woman and she doesn't say things she can't prove. She suggests that we test it when the fleet makes its next jump. She will provide _Galactica_ with a subspace communicator and show us how to use it or provide someone to operate it. Using _Voyager’s_ conventional normal space warp system, they can get to the next jump coordinates in twelve days," she said as she met their disbelieving eyes again.

 

"And even more stunning, using their slipstream technology, they can get there in just twelve hours. The slipstream has something to do with manipulating the space-time continuum at the quantum level--whatever that means--and it's produced artificially by their engines. The reason they were drawn here is because an enemy detonated a weapon in their path and it opened some sort of rift in subspace--little more than twenty-four hours ago, they were two thousand light years from here, struggling to get home."

 

Laura waited for her words to penetrate before continuing, "Which brings us to the subject of them helping us to get to Earth--"

 

"Why?" the representative from Picon demanded. "We don't need their help! We have the map from the Tomb of Athena."

 

"He's right," Zarek said smugly. "Why are we even discussing waiting for them? The nebula is only about hundred light years away and then I think it’s just a matter of seaching the nearby systems for Earth; we could be there weeks before them even with their _slipstream_."

 

"And we'd be nowhere near Earth," Laura said and all eyes snapped on her small frame. William Adama felt his heart plummet, but gazing into her smiling eyes, he drew strength to hope again. "According to Captain Janeway, we are presently over twenty _thousand_ , three hundred light years away from Earth."

 

Pandemonium broke out and Adama took the opportunity to move closer to Roslin. Seeing his movement, Lee and Kara also moved in to flank the President’s other side.

 

"You certainly know how to stir up the hornets' nest," he said softly, before stepping up to the microphone. "Everyone, settle down!" his voice boomed from the speakers. The volume of the cacophony only got louder. "I said SHUT UP and let the President continue."

 

"No!" an angry voice shouted over the din. Again it was the representative from Picon, Elliot Something-or-another that Adama could never remember. "Why are we listening to this woman--these people? How do we know this is not a trap? Some sick Cylon joke? We should suspend their access to our ships immediately."

 

"I know it's difficult to trust, Mr. Martin," Laura said. "And after all we've been through, it's especially difficult to trust people who use technology the way they do--who not only purposely create artificial _sentient_ beings, but consider them friends and family, but we all know they are not Cylons. Maybe that was our mistake; we created slaves, they created friends. They are very sophisticated with computer technology. Remember, before they knew we could listen in on Paris' comm-chatter, they had repelled a Cylon virus attack. In fact Chakotay laughed about it because it seemed that the Cylons had never heard of holding buffers and counter-viruses. These people put their own virus--something called a self-replicating worm-- _into_ the Cylons’ computer system. Something that the Cylons would find hard to erradicate before it affected other ships!"

 

The room was silent again and Laura took what she hoped was an unobtrusive breath. "Now Captain Janeway has actually foreseen your objections and has said that she won't try to stop us if we leave her behind--with her sensors, she can track us anywhere." She waited for that statement to sink in before continuing. "But according to her, when we get there, we won't find Earth. We will find a natural spatial phenomenon that we won't know how to use, but they will--a phenomenon that will be a short cut to Earth."

 

"What sort of phenomenon," Zarek asked hoarsely.

 

"She has given us a choice of three candidates," Laura quipped as she brought out the device Janeway had given her. "Depending on which one matches our map."

 

She activated the device, put it on the briefing table and stepped back. The stars were projected into thin air; a pulsar, with spectacular jets streaking from its poles, zoomed into focus and Janeway's voice filled the air as the Quorum members jumped back from the hologram.

 

"This is an old pulsar approximately eighty-eight light years from here," the Captain of _Voyager_ said as a series of numbers glowed a short distance away from the pulsar. "Coordinates close this pulsar should be apparent now--they are coordinates relative to our current position. Near this pulsar, there appears to be a cyclical wormhole aperture."

 

They all gasped as a glowing blossom of light and gas opened in space.

 

"However, this wormhole is unlikely to be the proper phenomenon as it appears to be unstable and we probably would have difficulty predicting its exit aperture with any reliability. Furthermore, although most ships can use wormholes, it would be far more dangerous for hyper ships as their engines tend to attract free verteron particles and could theoretically destabilise the wormhole. Finally, I’m pretty sure there are no wormhole apertures in the vicinity of Earth--believe me, if there had been, Starfleet would have found them by now. Earth is the seat of the Federation President and Council, and we take our security very seriously. Cyclical wormholes jump around, but they have predictable positions they might exit to each time they cycle. However, they've been known to reverse cycle polarity. That means that this end may appear fixed for now, while the exit end jumps around, but on the next cycle, or perhaps in a hundred cycles, the exit end may anchor and this end would begin to cycle locations.

 

"This is our second choice," Janeway continued and the image changed to show the roiling, twisting colours of what appeared to be a nebula or some sort of gaseous cloud with more coordinates glowing on it. "It is a core inversion spatial rift approximately one hundred and two light years away. This rift is old and more importantly, stable to hyperspace vessels. However, all known inversion rifts pass through the core of the galaxy and I doubt that this one is an exception. Unless you can precisely navigate this type of rift to target its companion on the other side of the galactic core, you could end up anywhere in the galaxy, or even conceivably in another galaxy altogether, if you end up anywhere at all. I doubt your ancestors could navigate this one and in any case, the closest inversion rift to Earth is in the Klingon Empire--hundreds of light years from Earth. No one goes into Klingon territory except by express invitation, and even then, smart people think about it long and hard."

 

There was a moment of silence, before Janeway's voice resumed and the image changed once again to a binary system on the edge of another spectacular nebula. Bright spots of light burst like fireworks in the space between the suns and died quickly, before another one blossomed.

 

"This last set of coordinates--about one hundred and twenty-nine light years away near this Type 11 Nebula--is the one I believe you're headed for. In this binary system is a nexus of no less than twelve interplexing flectures. The good news is that there is a single flecture point right in Earth's backyard--between the wide binary companion stars of the Alpha Centauri system a mere four light years from Earth. The bad news is that interplexing flectures--like wormholes--are by nature unstable, though they generally only fluctuate in their spatial position. However, there are ways to stabilize them long enough to use them.

 

"Here is the kicker, ladies and gentlemen--this nexus seems to be spatially anchored to this system’s two suns, as the flecture point back home is anchored between the Alpha Centauri suns. However, although they are not fluctuating in space, they are fluctuating in _time_. So not only do you have to choose the correct flecture point--and I'll give you that one in twelve chance--you also have to stabilize its chronometrics, or you risk ending up on Earth in a time when it was in no shape to be of any use to you.

 

“Furthermore, your ships would have to transit the flecture one at a time, so you risk sending each ship to a different timeframe--perhaps some of your people would love being back when the dinosaurs ruled the planet, or others would like it in the twentieth century when humans had so many nuclear weapons trained on each other, we could have blown the planet up a thousand times over. Or perhaps there are those of you would prefer the late twenty-first century, when we finally did blow ourselves up, killing ten _billion_ people in a single day."

 

Adama felt the pain in the woman's voice and knew this was no bluff or tugging at the heartstrings, but cold reality.

 

"History calls it World War Three; my father called it the Twenty-five Year War as it flared on and off for years. But technologically, we grew up quickly then; Zephram Cochrane flew us to the stars--in the first warp ship scavenged from a leftover warhead--and we encountered our first alien species, the Vulcans. Then again, some of you may enjoy the future--except for one little thing you need to be acquainted with about the Federation. My officers have already acquainted you with our Prime Directive, which governs our travel and actions in space, now I'm going to acquaint you with our Temporal Prime Directive, which governs our actions when travelling in _time_. It's simple really; make one step outside the established timeline--past or future--and let's just say that you'll make the acquaintance of the Timeship _Relativity_ , or one of her cohorts, and the temporal agents who guard the timeline. And when you do, tell them Kathryn Janeway sent you--they know me well enough that just thinking about me gives them headaches--and believe me, they so hate having to repair temporal incursions into the timeline. Think about it."

 

The stunned silence gave way to utter pandemonium.

 

“That’s preposterous!” Zarek shouted. “Time travel is impossible!”

 

“Actually it’s not,” William said; they regarded his smiling face in shock. “Time travel is precisely why our ships’ engines work the way they do, forcing us to make quick jumps short-cutting through hyperspace to our destination. If we tried to ride the waves of hyperspace for any length of time, we would start going back in time with no way to orient ourselves until we exit back into normal space--if ever we can. Ask Dr. Baltar.”

 

Every eye was trained on the scientist. “He’s right,” Baltar conceded. “Time travel is a theoretical possibility. But no one has been able to prove it can be done. And her claim to be able to stabilize such a phenomenon’s chronometrics is patently absurd--if that is what is really there in the first place.”

 

“Lieutenant Gaeta,” Laura called over the din of voices that Baltar’s pronouncement stirred up. “How long would it take you to tell if those last coordinates Captain Janeway gave us are the match the nebula we obtained from the tomb of Athena, using this system as a reference point?”

 

Adama smiled; Laura had certainly come into the meeting with all her birds neatly lined up. Gaeta was not a usual attendee of Quorum meetings.

 

“Not long, Ma’am,” he replied with a sudden grin that lit up his face. “The Admiral made it SOP--standard operating procedure--that we update our read on the Lagoon Nebula after every jump. But right now, President Roslin, I can tell you that the ones Captain Janeway chose are most likely correct--”

 

“How so?” Zarek demanded. "Why not the rift nebula?"

 

Adama nodded and the young man continued. “We found it just before we made the last jump that brought us into contact with _Voyager_ ,” he said. “There are a number of systems on the edge of the nebula and one appears to be a wide binary system if we approach it from the vector indicated by nebula's relative position in the star map, but we won’t have confirmation for another two jumps when we’re close enough to have a better resolution.”

 

“Right where she said that nexus of inter-whatever phenomenon will be anchored,” Laura said.

 

“Interplexing flectures--yes, Ma’am.”

 

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Laura said before turning back to the Quorum. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she began. “Whether you like it or not, we’re going to have to take Captain Janeway and her people seriously. And I mean very seriously, because there is no way she’s going to lead us to Earth if there is a chance that we might lead the Cylons there as well. That means that we’re going to have to grow up as a people very quickly, because as you can see from that one small ship, Earth is not alone in its United Federation of Planets. We’re going to have to learn tolerance not only for aliens, but for artificial life-forms, other technologies, and especially other cultural customs that these human beings may have. And we’re also going to have to tell them why the Cylons hate us so much.”

 

“You must be joking!” Sara Porter shouted.

 

“Do I _look_ like I’m joking, Ms Porter,” Laura snarled. Adama smiled thinly; yet again the Quorum was surprised by the lioness showing her claws. “If we want their help in neutralizing the Cylon threat and making sure they can no longer follow us, we have to tell them the truth--that _we_ created the Cylons.”

 

#

 


	9. Family

Kathryn sobbed into her blanket as she listened to the muffled screams of the babies coming from the other room.

 

The evening had started out well enough when Chakotay and Annika had dropped of the children for Kathryn and B'Elanna to babysit for the evening, although they had been almost an hour late dropping off the kids. But Annika had looked resplendent in the beautiful scarlet gown with gold trim, while Chakotay was never more handsome in his suit as they headed for the holodeck.

 

Kathryn had played with three-year-old Miral and the eighteen-month-old twins, Sekaya and Kolopak until the children were exhausted, while B'Elanna had good-naturedly groused that she spoiled them rotten. After they had taken their bedtime bottles and gone to sleep in their little bassinets in corner of Kathryn's living room, she had settled down to catch up on her reading.

 

Then Torres had left to get something from her office, and no sooner did she leave, than Kol tumbled out of his little bed crying bitterly for what Kathryn could only interpret as his bottle. However, that turned out to be the wrong answer and she spent the next ten frustrating minutes trying to appease him with toys, juice, water, checking his diaper and rocking and singing to him.

 

Nothing worked and his howls only got louder, which of course meant that it woke not only Kaya but also Miral, who immediately demonstrated the power of a pair of tiny Klingon lungs.

 

As she was considering getting on the comm channel and ordering Torres to get her ass back there, the chief engineer had returned and immediately began laughing at her as she tried frantically to calm the three children. When Kathryn had told her to shut up and help her, she'd asked in that accusatory tone what she, _Kathryn_ , had done to disturb them in so short a time.

 

As Torres took Kolopak, Kathryn had looked down into Kaya's howling face and saw also Miral's tearstained face--and she didn't know what to do to help her, how to ease either of their pain.

 

Suddenly she felt helpless and out of control as their cries grew louder, when she heard B'Elanna talking to her as if from very far away. She didn't know why, but she had shoved Kaya into her friend's arms and run from the room.

 

Now she lay there crying hysterically as the babies screamed in the other room--and in her mind. The babies who died horrible deaths because she couldn't save them--because she wasn't fast enough, strong enough, good enough as a Captain or a mother--

 

"Kathryn," she heard B'Elanna whisper as she slipped into the room. For a moment the children's wails filled the room before the door closed. "Please Kathryn, tell me what's wrong," she pleaded as she pulled Kathryn into a tight hug and stroked her hair gently.

 

How could she tell her friend of the nightmares that started four weeks ago in a place where she had no voice, where she could not scream? Only the children and _their screams_ as they died existed in that place, while she tried desperately to reach each of them and pull them to safety. The little bassinets filled with water and sank. The ones she had managed to get to the safety of the ice broke away in a million directions and floated out to sea. Her clothing was weighed down by the water and she slipped beneath the icy surface surrounded by the lifeless little bodies of the ones she couldn't save.

 

Then looking into B'Elanna's concerned eyes, Kathryn knew that she trusted her enough to tell her. As Kathryn pulled away, Torres didn't interrupt as she poured out her fears and her nightmares and her hopes.

 

"I'm sorry, Kathryn," B'Elanna whispered at last as the tears ran down her cheeks. "I'm sorry that I didn't realise what this would do to you--I was insensitive to press the issue of spending more time with the children so soon--"

 

She put her hand on Torres' shoulder. "No B'Elanna, not insensitive--I'm so sorry. There are moments when I want _them_ … when I wished I known what it was like to be pregnant so badly it hurts, and I just have to leave the room when the children are there. We've been out here ten years--and now I'm forty-eight years old …

 

"Before we left the alpha quadrant, I always thought I would have so much time before me, so much time to take time off and have children. Now, my time has run out, and everything is so screwed up … I watch you, B'Elanna, and the others and I feel so jealous and like such a coward for having been so afraid to take my chance when I had it."

 

"You're not a coward, Kathryn," B'Elanna said hoarsely as she hugged her again. "You're the bravest person I know and we both know you were cheated--it's not your fault." Torres held her gaze. "It's not your fault!" she repeated fiercely.

 

"Oh Lord, B'Elanna," Kathryn said tightening her embrace. "Sometimes I think I'm falling apart."

 

"Don't worry, I'll hold you together," Torres laughed.

 

"We'll hold each other together--B'Elanna the children!" she cried in alarm as she broke their embrace.

 

"Don't worry, I called in an expert--listen, I think Sam's gotten them to sleep," she said with a grin.

 

Kathryn chuckled wryly as she dried her eyes. "A babysitter for the babysitter?"

 

"You can put it that way," she laughed as she took Kathryn's hand and lead her out into the living room.

 

Samantha Wildman was pacing the room as they entered, rocking Kaya gently and she smiled as they approached. "Kathryn, B'Elanna," she said softly as she bent to put the baby in her little bed. "They're both asleep now and they should stay that way until Chakotay and Annika get back since they're both sleeping through the night now."

 

"Thank you, Samantha," Kathryn said as she took the younger woman's hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. "I don't know how you managed it."

 

She laughed softly. "It wasn't really your fault. Kol's favourite stuffed animal, Ba-Ba, fell between the baby-bed and the wall--that's why he was so upset. It's his security blanket ... I didn't even realise it for a few minutes. Once he fell asleep, Kaya had nothing to cry about."

 

"And Miral was just crying because they were, because she's at the stage where she thinks it's such great fun to yell her head off," Torres said sourly, looking at her--now--peaceful tot.

 

"Thank you," Kathryn repeated as she pulled up the blanket over the peaceful little boy who hugged his little white lamb. She smiled at Wildman and turned towards the replicator. "Have you any plans for this evening, Samantha? Can you stay for dinner?"

 

"I don't--"

 

"Come on Sam, at least let us feed you dinner," Torres said. "I know that Celes and Harry have taken the Naomi, Icheb and a bunch of the Ajaeri kids camping at Bajor's Silver Lake."

 

Wildman hesitated and then smiled. "Ok, thank you. Thank you very much."

 

#

 

It was late when Laura returned to her quarters on _Colonial One_ ; wrangling with the members of the Quorum over what could be disclosed to Janeway was brutal. It had taken everything from her over the last two days since Janeway's revelations to cajole the requisite number of votes for nearly full disclosure about the Cylons and she was exhausted.

 

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” William’s voice was quiet, but she could hear the underlying frustration; they were supposed to have a quiet dinner on _Colonial One_. She shrugged out of her jacket and turned to face him. He was sitting up in her bed, regarding her over the rims of his glasses. There were papers spread about the bed clothes.

 

“I didn’t think you would still be here,” she said, reaching back to unzip her skirt. “I thought you went back to _Galactica_ hours ago.”

 

“And I thought you’d be done at a reasonable time,” he replied, moving his papers off the bed and onto her nightstand.

 

Her laugh was muffled by the nightgown that she struggled to get over her head. “When have you ever known that group to be reasonable?” she asked tartly.

 

He smiled at the floor-length sleepwear as he pulled her down into his lap and caressed her through the thin cloth. He liked to tease her about her old-fashioned tastes in lingerie, but she’d been on a business trip and her clothing had been chosen for comfort, not sexiness. Laura frowned now; the nightgown, like most of her clothing, was threadbare. She also had two sets of pyjamas and another shorter tunic-style nightdress, but that didn’t change the fact that her wardrobe was very limited.

 

She sighed contentedly as his large, strong hands cupped her breasts and he kissed the nape of her neck. She leaned into his warmth as he enveloped her in his arms and held her close. She could hear his heart beating.

 

“So, did you finally beat them into submission?” he chuckled.

 

“Of course,” she replied smiling. “But Zarek, Baltar and their cabal want to question Kathryn in open Quorum personally before we reveal anything. They all do, and we’ll be asking her to address the Quorum in three … well two days now given the time.”

 

“Good,” he replied. “Do you think she’ll agree?”

 

“Oh yes,” Laura replied. She reluctantly moved out of the loose circle of his arms so that she could sit next to him and look him in the eyes. “I think that in her own way, Bill, she’s as desperate as we are--more even, because while we’ve been looking for a legend, they’ve been looking for a place that is as real to them as Caprica and the other colonies were to us. And they’ve been at this for ten years.”

 

William nodded; his face was serious and he looked lost in thought. “Well, she’s sent over the lists of alloys they’ll need from the fabrication ships,” he said pointing to the stack of papers, “on the smallest damned computer you’ll ever see. It is voice operated, so that even an old relic like me can use it and it’s a two-way communicator to her ship complete with video. Gaeta is positively salivating.” He grinned at her. “Anyway, there are a couple of things on the list none of our materials scientists and techs haven’t even dreamt of--much less seen before--but she’s sent along instructions even I could understand and we’re taking very careful notes.”

 

Laura laughed at that as he continued. “They’ve also managed to snag us a couple of tylium-rich asteroids--” Her eyes widened in shock and he chuckled ruefully. “We didn’t even have to ask. A couple of their Cobras just showed up three hours ago dragging two gigantic rocks behind them and asked if we could use the fuel. The boys on the mining ships went _frak_ -happy! They estimate that there’s enough there for everyone for at least fifteen jumps.”

 

“With family you don’t have to ask,” Laura whispered and he looked at her in askance. “It’s an old saying … from Earth,” she continued. “I asked her the same thing--why she’s willing to do so much for us, especially when she doesn’t know if they can trust us--and that’s what she said.”

 

“Family,” Adama said thoughtfully, “the Family of Man.”

 

Laura smiled. “But where would all those aliens fit in?” she asked.

 

“The Family of Sentients then,” he replied, looking insufferably smug.

 

“What about the Cylons?” she asked soberly.

 

“I’ll be damned if I’m going to include Cylons in any family of mine,” he retorted.

 

She nodded; he seemed to forget that she had Cylon blood coursing through her veins … chock full of tiny machines. For her things weren’t so black and white. She understood his feelings, but contact with _Voyager_ was going to force a lot of things to change. It was as inevitable as a child growing up. The only question now was just how painful those growing pains would be.

 

“There’s something else, William,” she said and he held her gaze waiting for her to continue. “Frankly, I don’t know how to bring it up, especially with the Quorum, but it’s something that can’t be ignored.”

 

“Go on,” he said gently.

 

“They may have references to the Lords of Kobol in their computer archives,” she continued after a deep steadying breath, “I sent them Elosha’s Temple Chest with its Icons and Sacred Scrolls in tact. They’re willing to share the information, but Kathryn has warned me that if the truth of the matter is what is in there, then we may lose our Gods--it may destroy the foundations of our religion, or at the very least, cause people to re-evaluate the Scriptures.”

 

The silence stretched out between them for long minutes; he raked his fingers through his thick hair. “If you’d asked people five years ago if they believed in the Gods, I reckon that probably less than twenty percent would have said yes,” he said at last. “Now to suggest otherwise is unthinkable.”

 

“I know,” she replied shivering although the ambient temperature was quite comfortable. He put his arms around her again and drew her in closer. A year ago, she had been living the prophecies set forth in the _Book of Pythia_ ; she still found herself scouring the Books when she had the time. Memories and visions haunted her still.

 

“I know,” she repeated as she laid her head on his shoulder. “But can we afford to remain willfully ignorant? And is our faith so weak that it can’t bear the scrutiny? The truth?”

 

His laughter rumbled through her. “That’s my Laura,” he said, dark eyes dancing as he looked at her with open admiration. “Even when faced with a crisis of existential proportions that would have priests and philosophers running screaming into the desert to rid themselves of their blasphemous thoughts, you face it head on. You grab each head of the Hydra and wrestle it to submission.”

 

She joined his laughter, a bit embarrassed by his praise.

 

“I think it’s time I met Captain Janeway face to face,” he continued. “She’d probably like a tour of _Galactica_ , don’t you think?”

 

Laura shook harder with laughter. “I think that she’d probably like that,” she gasped between giggles. She surged into his arms, overwhelmed with love for him. “I think that she would like that very much!”

 

#

 


	10. Earthquakes

_She's much smaller in person_ , Adama thought ruefully as he formally shook hands with Kathryn Janeway on the flight deck. He was used to thinking of Laura as small, but she was almost a head taller than the Federation Captain. It was Laura’s frailty, he realized, for despite her tiny size, Janeway didn’t look like she had a frail bone in her body. He wondered how much of that was illusion projected through her force of will.

 

The tall alien in the amber-shouldered uniform who accompanied her was Starbuck’s Blue--Malaquier. In the gold-skinned, blue-haired woman’s lazy smile, Adama saw a deadly predator. He read her silent message easily; she was Janeway’s bodyguard in much the same way as Starbuck had been Laura’s on _Voyager_. He wondered what kind planetary evolution produced such a physiology that made the alien look like she’d been dipped in pure gold or if there was some technology involved.

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you in person at last, Admiral Adama,” Janeway said with a warm smile.

 

“It’s William, remember,” he said returning her smile. They had spoken for a good long while earlier that day regarding the alloys she’d requested, as well as a host of other subjects and he’d found himself liking almost too easily.

 

“I remember,” she replied and turned to Malaquier who handed her a silver cylinder that had been hooked onto the large bag she was carrying. Janeway presented it to him; he looked at her in askance. “On Earth it’s traditional for the guest to bring the wine for dinner--” She quirked a charming, crooked smile. “At least it’s traditional in my neck of the woods.”

 

“Ah,” he said accepting the cylinder from her. “Thank you. Laura should be along in a bit; she got called away at the last minute to put out a few fires smouldering in the Quorum.”

 

She nodded her understanding as they left the flight deck. “That’s one thing being out here has spared me,” she said, blue eyes twinkling, “having to deal with Starfleet bureaucracy--and not to mention-- _Federation_ politicians.”

 

He laughed and they chatted companionably as he guided her down the corridor. As they toured the ship, he got the impression that nothing escaped her notice, not the threadbare condition of his people’s clothes, or the open wiring where some panels had to be scavenged to repair more important things, or the relative primitiveness of his technology compare to what Laura and others had described seeing on _Voyager_. However, he refused to feel ashamed of his command; _Galactica_ was a tough old girl, she’d served them well and he was proud of that. Later, as he answered her penetrating, intelligent questions, he realized that Janeway wasn’t judging him; in fact she seemed to admire him.

 

Watching her now in CIC with Gaeta as they discussed the minutae of calculating jump vectors, he had to admit, she really knew her science. Adama soon found much of the rapid-fire conversation going straight over his head, but Gaeta looked like a man who’d just been granted entrance into the Elysian Fields.

 

He glanced at Janeway’s alien bodyguard, who shrugged and gave him a sly smile. “Don’t look at me, Admiral,” Malaquier said; her voice was low and melodic. “I have no clue--I just fly the things and shoot … push the buttons they tell me to.”

 

“Ingenious!” Janeway exclaimed. Adama turned to find her studying the mass-compensator functions for hyperspace drift during a jump. “Your ships’ drives are programmed to over-estimate the mass conversion!” Her face lit up with a delighted smile. “We wondered how all your ships could pinpoint the jump exit point so precisely, despite such vast differences in sizes. When you first jumped into the path of the slipstream wavefront--we were understandably shocked when you just popped up like that, but we were also amazed at how tightly grouped your ships’ formation was. Our experience with species that use hyper ships is that if everyone jumps in within a ten light-minute radius of each other or where they want to be, you’ve had a good day. Your ships were all within a few hundred kilometres of each other--any closer and you risked interpenetration!”

 

“That would _not_ be a good thing, Ma’am,” Gaeta said smiling.

 

“No, I don’t suppose it would be,” she chuckled. “Thank you for a very stimulating conversation, Mr. Gaeta. I’ve been caught up with subspace physics for so many years that I often forget that I first started out studying hyperspace phenomena and how fascinating I found it.”

 

“You’ve studied hyperspace?” Adama asked in surprise. “I thought its principles weren’t compatible with your ship’s subspace technologies.”

 

“It’s not,” she replied with an impish grin. “But it doesn’t mean that we don’t study it. Starfleet is as much an exploratory and research body as it is military. I started out in the science track and was a science officer before switching to the command track. All through the Academy and on my first deep space deployment, I studied massive halo compact objects, core inversion rifts and other hyperspace phenomena. Even after I switched to command, I still served for a few years as a science officer.”

 

The look on Gaeta’s face was that of a man in love. Adama shook his head--Janeway had Laura’s ability to charm his men judging by the looks of his command crew.

 

“Sir,” Dualla said. “The President’s shuttle is on approach to _Galactica_.”

 

Adama acknowledged the communications officer, nodding to Tigh before ushering Janeway and Malaquier from CIC to his quarters. As Kathryn entered, Malaquier handed her the large bag she’d been carrying and took up position outside the door.

 

Adama was relieved to see the impeccably set table with crisp linens. It was a small thing, but important to him.

 

“Mmm,” Janeway sighed appreciatively, “smells wonderful.” She smiled at him and put the bag down on the couch. “Do you want to take a look before Laura gets here?”

 

He put the wine cylinder on the table and walked over to her. Kathryn opened the bag and stepped back as he regarded the contents. The sight of the neatly folded clothing in the two halves of the case gave him a curious heartache.

 

He’d noticed the state of Laura’s clothing for months; in her zeal to look after everyone else, she rarely took time for herself. When he’d contacted Janeway earlier that day, she’d been off duty and wearing a simple civilian outfit that had softened her demeanour quite noticeably. He thought that the cream tunic and slacks would look fabulous on Laura and hesitantly broached the subject with the Federation captain. Janeway’s look of delight when he’d asked for her help and her immediate willingness to take on the task had made him glad he’d taken the chance. She’d linked the portable computer terminal that she’d sent over with the list of alloys to her ship’s database and they’d spent almost two hours looking at and choosing from a dizzying array of clothing.

 

“Thank you, Kathryn,” William Adama said hoarsely. He met her kind, compassionate gaze. “She would never think to do this for herself and I had no clue as to size or what to get her. The only woman I would trust enough to shop for her is Starbuck--and well her tastes leave much to be desired.”

 

Kathryn joined his chuckles, blue eyes sparkling. “I know just what you mean,” she said, “and I was more than happy to do it. All the fabrics are lightweight, but very durable and I also included a small spa-bag with soaps, creams and a bit of make-up.” She lifted up a breathtaking gown, shimmering with the blues and greens of a butterfly’s wing and carefully laid it aside. Beneath were two boxes--one white, one pink--and a small case.

 

“The sleepwear you requested is in the white box,” she explained, eyes twinkling mischievously, “and her unmentionables are in the pink box.”

 

He looked at her in confusion. “Unmentionables?”

 

She laughed--a low, deep belly-laugh. “Underwear,” she clarified. “Since you didn’t mention them, I took the liberty. I hope you enjoy them.”

 

Adama laughed at her gentle teasing. “Believe me,” he said as he picked up the entire case, “I will.”

 

She draped the gown over his arm and he carried everything to his rack. He left the case open on the bed and laid the gown to one side. Choosing a pair of chocolate-coloured slacks and a cream fitted blouse with tiny pearl buttons, he laid them on the bed. He picked up the small spa-bag and placed it on his robe; whenever Laura stayed over, she invariably commandeered his robe. Finally, he laid the pink box on top of the blouse, pulled a simple white card from his jacket pocket and placed it on top of the box.

 

Deciding he’d left his guest alone for long enough, and not wanting Laura to come in while he was still in the bedroom, he turned off the light and returned to the living area. Kathryn was crouched, studying some books on one of the lower shelves of his bookcase. She pulled one out and opened it to the frontispiece; he recognized it from the painting used in the coloured plate.

 

“ _Eurydyke_ ,” he said, “an epic poem by one of our greatest poets, Omeros Seafort. He lived over twelve hundred years ago. The painting is _Orfeo and Eurydyke_ by Helene Alexander; she was a painter of Caprica’s Classic School about four centuries ago. Do you know the story?” he asked curiously.

 

“Oh yes,” she replied. “It’s a very famous love story, but on Earth they’re more commonly called Opheus and Eurydice, and there are a few versions of the story.”

 

Laura bustled in with an armload of files and looking furious.

 

“So did the hull survive the explosion?” Adama asked.

 

That apparent non-sequitur stopped her in her tracks. “Wh-what?”

 

He found her confusion adorable as he relieved her of the files and put them on the coffee table. “From the look on your face,” he continued, “I figure Tigh’s going to call me any moment now to report a major hull breach on _Colonial One_.”

 

Janeway choked on her laughter and Laura shook her head. “Very funny, Bill,” she admonished unable to keep from smiling as he pulled her into a gentle hug. “Hello Kathryn,” she said as he released her.

 

“Long day, Madam President?” Kathryn said as Laura greeted her with a brief hug.

 

“Don’t you start,” Laura groused. “There are some days when I wish murder was an option.”

 

“I know the feeling well,” Kathryn replied, “and I get the impression that tomorrow I’ll know it even better.”

 

“I wish there was another way,” Laura said soberly.

 

Kathryn laughed. “Don’t worry,” she reassured her. “It’ll be good practise for when I get home; my battalion of bureaucrats will probably court martial me.”

 

Laura joined her laughter, but studying Janeway, Adama got the distinct impression that she wasn’t altogether joking. Turning to Laura he said, “Well, why don’t you go freshen up. Kathryn and I have a couple of things to discuss and dinner will hold another ten or fifteen minutes.”

 

He saw the gratitude in her eyes as she squeezed his hand briefly and headed for his rack. There were days when he wished she would just call it quits, but her sense of duty matched his own and they knew all too well the consequences of an opportunist like Zarek, or a questionably stable Baltar, becoming President.

 

Janeway met his gaze with a delighted grin before he turned and followed Laura.

 

#

 

Laura entered the darkened room, grateful for the few moments alone and even more grateful to William for knowing that she would need it. As the lights came on, she stopped short, tears welling up in her eyes even before she consciously understood what she was looking at. Her legs felt like proverbial jelly as she walked to the bed. Looking down at the clothing, she reached out hesitantly as if afraid it would all be a mirage. She fingered the whisper-soft fabric of the shimmering gown as fat tears rolled down her cheeks. Then the pink box with the white card caught her eye as she took in William’s silent suggestion of what to wear for the evening.

 

Her hand trembled as she reached for the card. On the front it simply said “Laura” in the bold, black strokes of his writing. Inside, it was inscribed “For my Queen, Love William”. Her dams broke then. She turned to find him standing on the threshold of the bedroom and fled straight into his waiting arms. She could do nothing but sob helplessly as he picked her up and carried her over to the bed. He sat down cradling her in his lap and at that moment, she'd never felt more loved.

 

After a few minutes, she was able to bring herself under control again. "How?" she croaked. "When did you have time to do this, William?"

 

"Earlier today," he chuckled, kissing her tear-stained cheek. "Kathryn did most of the work; I only had to ask."

 

"Oh Love," she whispered, laying her forehead against his as she gazed into his eyes. "Thank you."

 

"Thank me tonight," he said waggling his eyebrows lasciviously and she giggled as he kissed her. "Why don't you take a quick shower and get ready? I'll go keep Kathryn company."

 

She nodded and rose out of his lap. After catching her up in another heady kiss, he left the bedroom, leaving her silently thanking the Gods for meeting such a man. She undressed quickly and stepped into his shower. The jasmine-scented bath oils reminded her of the Aphrodite Spa on Arilon. She’d only been there once--a present from Adar.

 

She shook herself free of the memory and luxuriated for a few moments in the scents. Aware of time passing, Laura quickly finished her shower, dried off and hurried back to the bedroom. Opening the pink box, she grinned at the gorgeous lingerie. There were practical pieces for everyday wear, but there were also wispy, sexy things that she would have bought for herself in another lifetime. She chose a lacy set and pulled them on knowing that William would have fun removing them later.

 

She took a moment to marvel at how the lace caressed her curves, yet the bra supported her breasts easily, even providing some much needed lift. The panties were cut strangely, sitting low on her hips and fairly modest in front, but barely covering the curve of her rear. She almost didn't recognize the siren in Adama’s locker mirror. Chuckling to herself, she quickly dressed, again marvelling at how light and soft the fabrics were. She hurriedly brushed her hair out and applied a dab of lipstick, before returning to the living room.

 

William and Kathryn were deep in conversation when she returned, poring over a number of books spread out on the low coffee table.

 

“You're telling me that there were twelve _habitable_ worlds in one star system?” the Federation Captain was saying in outrage. “And no one thought this was strange?”

 

“Not until we got out here and realized out how unusual it was,” he replied in bemusement as Janeway got up and paced the floor. “And some of our worlds were large moons orbiting larger, uninhabitable planets; it was a binary star system with twenty-seven major worlds between the two stars. There were few multiple star systems out where the colonies were located so we didn’t think it was so unusual.”

 

“Binary, trinary, quadrinary!” she said throwing her hands up. “It makes no difference! Such a configuration could be nothing but artificial. Your colonies had to be terraformed--there’s simply no way to have that many M-Class worlds in one system.”

 

“T-terraformed?” Laura said, stumbling over the unfamiliar word. “M-Class?”

 

Janeway stopped her pacing and smiled. William looked as if he wanted to devour Laura then and there.

 

“I take it meets with your approval,” she said a little shyly.

 

“Most definitely,” he rumbled; his voice was a hair’s breadth from a growl and the intensity in his eyes made the butterflies in her stomach go wild.

 

She self-consciously patted her damp hair. "I need a haircut," she said and then cringed inwardly at the inanity of the statement.

 

Kathryn chuckled. "Well I can offer the services of the Delaney sisters," she said, breaking the tension. "They're two of my stellar cartographers--identical twins. They’re a bit wild, but pretty good at taking orders."

 

"Thank you," Laura replied, "I may just take you up on that."

 

"Don't cut it too short," William said gruffly, capturing her gaze again; there was no hiding the love she found there.

 

After a long moment of staring into each others eyes, Laura took a deep breath as she remembered to breathe again. “All right,” she said briskly, covering her rising lust as Kathryn’s eyes twinkled knowingly. “What is this all about?” she asked, gesturing to the astronomy texts on the table.

 

“Kathryn and I were discussing the Twelve Colonies system,” William replied. “Apparently it was a bit of an abnormality.”

 

“There’s an understatement,” Kathryn muttered regarding them both with an intense gaze. “And you two have no idea how unusual this is, do you? Look, I’ve been in literally thousands of star systems in three out of the four quadrants of the galaxy and I can tell you right now that M-Class worlds--planets or moons that can support humanoid life--are pretty rare … on the order of one in ten thousand. The probability of _twelve_ M-Class worlds occurring in the same system naturally is astronomical!”

 

“But what could it be if it wasn’t naturally occurring?” Laura asked in confusion.

 

“That’s what I was trying to explain to William when you came in,” Kathryn replied. “I think that many of those worlds were specifically created--terraformed--to support human life.” Laura gaped at her in shock. “I think that someone deliberately transformed lifeless worlds into life-supporting worlds; that’s what terraforming does.”

 

Laura knew she must look like a gaping fish, but of all the earthquakes contact with _Voyager_ had produced so far, this one rocked her to the core and she knew that they weren’t done yet--not by a long shot!

 

“Look, statistically each star system that can support life does so within a certain habitable zone around the star, and even when everything is ideal, you may get one, or at the most, two planets within the habitable zone,” she said and Laura had the irrelevant--almost hysterical--thought that she would have made a good teacher. “That gives you four between the two stars under the most ideal conditions and adding in flukes like a large moon circling a gas giant at an ideal distance for stability, geological activity and gravitational effects to balance and produce half-way decent conditions for life to take hold, that would give you a maximum of five worlds. Realistically, I would guess that only three were originally life-bearing worlds in that binary system, which means that seven to nine of your colony worlds were terraformed. In fact, even the life-bearing worlds may have had to be modified somewhat for the biospheres to support _human_ life.”

 

There was a long moment of silence as Laura and William digested it all. “Well we did know that humans came from Kobol to the Colonies,” William said slowly. “What you’re saying is that the Lords of Kobol created … terraformed the colony worlds for us.”

 

“It’s a definite possibility,” Kathryn said thoughtfully. “It would have been an unimaginable undertaking; even in the Federation, it takes years, even decades, to terraform a single planet. One of the first ones Earth attempted was our planetary neighbour, Mars, and it took a century and a half to make it what I would consider liveable.”

 

Laura went over to Adama’s bookshelf and pulled down his copy of the Scriptures. She opened it to the correct page in _Pythia_ and read aloud, “On the Acropolis, from the doorway of her temple, Athena mourned, watching as the great galleon rose from the meadow, taking the people of Kobol to the place that had been _prepared_ for them--” Laura looked up at Kathryn. “I suppose that could mean terraformed. But the Scriptures differ about what happened next. Some accounts say that Athena committed suicide--threw herself over a precipice near the Gates of Hera--while others contend that the all the Lords committed suicide or simply remained on Kobol and perished in the catastrophe. But Pythia--”

 

“What does Pythia say?” Kathryn asked gently.

 

“She seems to imply that the Lords boarded a ship,” William replied. “They went with those who chose the Thirteenth Colony, Earth.”

 

“There was only one small ship left,” Laura continued reading from the sacred book, “the ship Thirteenth Tribe, bound for Earth and their destiny. The Lords descended the Acropolis and ascended the heavens.”

 

“That’s all she wrote on the subject,” William said, “just those few lines.”

 

“Yet it’s strange,” Laura said and Kathryn shifted her gaze waiting for her to continue. “In all the _Book of Pythia_ , the brief description of the exodus is the only thing that doesn’t have to do with prophecies.”

 

“I see,” Kathryn said. Her voice was curiously hollow.

 

“Kathryn?”

 

The other woman smiled wanly. “Give me a bit to think on this, Laura,” she said. “Have you spoken to the Quorum yet about those religious aspects we touched on?”

 

Laura shook her head. “No, not yet,” she said hoarsely, “only to William. I’m not quite sure how to broach the subject, to be frank.”

 

Kathryn nodded. “Do you think it would be better coming from a godless barbarian?” she quipped, eyes twinkling.

 

“Perhaps,” Laura chuckled and then sobered quickly. “I really don’t know and won’t know until _I_ have the courage to examine that information for myself.”

 

#


	11. That's time travel for you, which is why I try never to do it

“Well,” William said after another brief silence. “Why don’t we have dinner before everything dries out and my cook never speaks to me again?”

 

Kathryn laughed as they made their way over to the dining table. As William uncovered the serving dishes, Kathryn opened the silver cylinder that had been sitting on the table. Laura watched her press a recessed button and the cover lifted off smoothly with an audible hiss. A small wisp of fog escaped and she drew out a long, slim bottle of red wine.

 

“Chateau Picard ’67 Pinot,” she said as William went to his cupboard for wine glasses, “a very good year, in my opinion, although Jean-Luc preferred the ’68.”

 

“Jean-Luc?” Laura said curiously.

 

“Captain Jean-Luc Picard,” Kathryn said with a fond look in her eyes as she poured each of them a glass of the deep red wine. “He’s commander of the Federation’s flagship, the USS _Enterprise_ \--the jewel in the Federation’s crown, so to speak--or at least he was her captain the last I knew. His family have been vintners in LaBarre, France for centuries.”

 

“Was he your lover?” Laura asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

 

Kathryn laughed delightedly. “Good Lord, no,” she said. “My fiancé was named Mark Johnson. Jean-Luc was a friend--a mentor. I’ve always known that his heart belonged to Beverly--” At their blank looks she clarified, “Dr. Beverly Crusher, the _Enterprise’s_ Chief Medical Officer. Actually, Bev and I are related in some convoluted Irish family way I’ve never taken time to figure out.”

 

“This _is_ good,” Laura said, pleasantly surprised by the smooth flavour of the wine that carried a hint of something else she couldn’t identify.

 

“Isn’t it?” Kathryn said. “Jean-Luc finds the oak undertaste a little too prominent in this vintage, but I’ve always enjoyed it.”

 

“What is _Irish_?” William asked as he sliced the small roast prepared in a dulaberry compote and placed the first piece on her plate.

 

She looked at him in surprise and then shook her head. “You’re both so easy to talk to that I forget you and Laura know nothing of Earth,” she said soberly. “Irish refers to people who trace their heritage back to Ireland, an island nation in Earth’s northern hemisphere. France, where Jean-Luc was born is another nation south of Ireland on one of our main sub-continents, Europe.”

 

“Nation?” Adama queried, but something tickled at Laura’s memory as she watched Kathryn’s flabbergasted expression at William’s innocent question.

 

“It’s an old word with a similar meaning as “polity”, William,” she said, trying to remember her old college political science classes as she took a small bite of the succulent roast--it wasn’t often that they ate like this and she felt a bit guilty considering the reconstituted stew or some such _Galactica’s_ crew would have for dinner. “A nation is an independent political entity defined by geography or common heritage in some instances.”

 

“Like the colonies,” he said, “in the way Saggitaron and Caprica are independent political entities.”

 

“Somewhat,” Kathryn said. She tasted the cress salad and smiled, seeming to make up her mind about something. “All right, it looks like we’ll never get anywhere without some basics. Until Zephram Cochrane flew the first warp-capable ship to the edge of our solar system three hundred years ago and encountered the Vulcans, who were busy on their way elsewhere, Earth was a planet divided into literally hundreds of nations or political units, each in many cases, with their own cultural mores, languages and religious beliefs--and that’s just for starters.” They gaped at her in shock. “Remember what I said about nearly blowing up the planet in the Third World War during the late twenty-first century?”

 

Laura nodded with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She took another sip of her wine.

 

“Well who do you think we were fighting?” she asked. She leaned back in her chair, studying them as they digested what she’d revealed. “Earth has had a very long, very bloody history. Stabs were made at uniting the planet but it never really happened. After our second great World War in less than half a century, some desperate idealists came up with a body known as the United Nations. It was a body that was an evolution of an earlier attempt at unity and supposed to help us towards unity. This was during the twentieth century, when the industrial revolution really took off, and we made scientific progress in leaps and bounds from splitting the atom, to going to the moon, to unravelling the mysteries of our own genes. But our diverse heritages, religious and cultural hatreds made it difficult to trust each other, so we took those advances and turned them into nuclear bombs, weapons platforms in space trained on each other’s cities--biological weapons ready to be unleashed on each other’s children.”

 

Kathryn grimaced at the horror Laura knew she was showing; the same horror was reflected on William’s face.

 

“The Colonies might have had their differences, but nothing like what you’re describing,” William said hoarsely. “Even through the Dark Times, each Colony always had a Council of Judges to settle inter-Colony disputes, with one judge from each of the Twelve Colonies and one Supreme Judge who was the Voice of the Twelve. And when the Articles of Colonisation was ratified and the Quorum of Twelve was formed, for the last fifty years we’ve always been able to bring our grievances to Parliament and to the Quorum.”

 

“Count your people lucky,” Kathryn said. “By the time we realized that the idealists were right and got our act together, it was almost too late. There are only two things that really got us together, finally united the planet under a world government body--that horrendous third World War and learning once and for all that we were not alone in the universe. Although the Vulcans turned out to be great friends and shepherded us into the Galactic Community, we learned first-hand that there were a lot of species out there far less benign and altruistic.

 

“And sometimes we are our own worst enemies,” she said. “Even now, after three hundred years of unity and peace, old hatreds will still rear their ugly heads, although not so much now on Earth, but it’s been known to happen in our colonies. Thousands of years of genocidal wars, of humans slaughtering other humans by the job-lots, of slavery and exploitation, are not easily forgotten.”

 

“No they wouldn’t be,” Laura said soberly. She ate her food slowly, without really tasting it now. “You said there were as many languages and religions as there were nations.”

 

“Yes,” Kathryn replied laying down her fork. “And the religious or cultural strife that comes with it is something the Colonies of Kobol seemed to have avoided as well.”

 

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” William spoke up. “For a lot of our Dark Times, when the Colonies were more or less isolated with only a few old ships plying the trade routes between them--taking years to go between the worlds--heresy was pretty much a capital crime. Even so, differences crept into religious worship on the different worlds and it became more apparent once we began really interacting again over the last five hundred years.”

 

“But heresy implies only a matter of interpretation of scriptures,” Kathryn said. “Imagine that multiplied and magnified not twelve times, but one hundred and twenty times--five hundred times! Each nation or country at any one time had perhaps two or three major religions with conflicting doctrines and a host of others in the minority. Take all that and project it through thousands of years of history. Religious doctrine was often spread at the point of a sword and later, down the muzzle of a gun … well you can imagine.”

 

“And now,” William said hoarsely. “Is there only one religion now that you’ve unified?”

 

Kathryn laughed at that--huge, genuine belly laughs that broke the tension in the room. “God no!” she said and Laura ventured a small smile, but didn’t miss the fact that the Federation woman swore by one God. _Like the Cylons_.

 

“That was _way_ too much to hope for, William. The best we could do was to learn tolerance for the plurality of religions on my world, codify it--make it a human right to worship whatever God or Pantheon of Gods each individual chose or not, as long as it didn’t hurt anyone else, you’re free to believe in whatever you want.”

 

At that moment, Laura realized how much Janeway talked with her hands as she gestured expansively between bites. Meeting William’s gaze, she knew that he also realized that there was something in the woman’s voice that said she found the whole concept of religion rather ridiculous.

 

“If a number of individuals got together and came up with a new religious philosophy,” she continued with a chuckle, “it would be referred to the Council of Human Rights: Religious Rights Division. And as long as they weren’t into child abuse, human sacrifices or animal sacrifices for that matter--we have a strict animal cruelty code--then usually a religious charter would be granted and the worshipers would be free to dance naked beneath the full moon to their hearts’ content.”

 

Kathryn’s smile faded in the awkward silence that stretched out between them. “Laura, William, have I offended you in some way?” she asked, her voice now deeply troubled.

 

“No,” Laura said quietly. “It’s just that your attitude about religion is so different, so take it or leave it. It’s funny, but until the Cylons’ attack, I would have said that was the direction our Colonies were headed. As Bill pointed out the last night, less than twenty percent of our population believed in the Gods or worshiped except some a vague ritualistic way. Now it seems unthinkable not to believe … almost blasphemous.”

 

“I can understand that,” Kathryn replied. “It unites your people, gives them hope and that is a great thing about religion. But you must understand--on Earth, religion in various forms was often used as a tool of oppression. Crusades and wars were fought for the supremacy of one religion over another. Entire peoples were slaughtered because they believed in the _wrong_ God or Gods and refused to convert to their conqueror’s beliefs. And those who did convert often lost their own heritages … entire cultures and civilizations have been lost on the altar of religion. Just ask Chakotay, who--by the way--is a very spiritual person. His ancestors and the civilizations in his part of the world were decimated by conquerors from my part of Earth over half-a-millennia ago and religion played a very big part in that. So yes, I do have a different outlook, but please believe me when I say that I do have great respect for your right to hold whatever beliefs you do, even if I do not share them.”

 

She smiled. “You only have to meet my mother to know why I would respect someone’s religious beliefs,” she said, “and if he were still alive, knowing my father would tell you why I would find it difficult to share those beliefs. My father was a scientist and so am I--my mother will tell you that I’ve always been a sceptical little cuss.” Laura chuckled at that. “Even as a child, I’ve never been able to suspend my disbelief enough to believe in my mother’s Catholic God. I questioned everything and drove our parish priest mad. I was raised Catholic, went to church every Sunday, knew my catechism and prayers. But I always felt like a fraud and by the time I was thirteen, I knew it wasn’t for me and told Mom. She respected that and my right not to believe, and I’ve never felt that she held it against me or loved me less.”

 

There was a brief silence again as they digested her words, then William said, “You said your father was a scientist, what does your mother do?”

 

Kathryn laughed. “She is a theoretical mathematician,” she said and they stared at her in shock. “She specializes in quantum reality mathematics and timeline branching.”

 

“That’s not exactly what I was expecting from someone who believes in higher beings or a higher being,” he said recovering his voice. “Didn’t her religious beliefs conflict with her work?”

 

“Perhaps, but I’m sure she worked it out or learned to live with it--you know, I've never thought to ask,” she replied and then laughed. “Anyway, my father always said that she took up mathematics so that she could calculate God.” Laura laughed in relief and instantly felt comfortable with Kathryn again.

 

“Timeline branching,” William said, “is that like time travel?”

 

“Among other things,” she replied. “The perceivable universe is really just one observable quantum plane of the multiverse; the theory is that everything that can happen, will happen, and does happen. There are universes out there where our enemy never detonated that weapon in the path of our slipstream and we never met; where the Ocampan Caretaker never kidnapped my ship--stranding us seventy thousand light years from home; and there are universes out there where the Cylons never attacked your colonies and you were never forced to flee. All these universes exist at once; my mother’s work is modeling how they come into existence.”

 

“Why do I get the feeling that it’s not only your mother,” Laura said shrewdly and it was Kathryn’s turn to be surprised.

 

“I do hold a degree in theoretical mathematics,” she admitted at last.

 

“Among other things I would guess,” Laura said, eyes twinkling.

 

“Let’s just say that as a child, I preferred learning quantum mechanics to learning to cook,” she said chuckling. “Even now, I can barely boil water without burning down the house. Lucky for me my mother and sister are both marvellous cooks or I would have starved to death as a child.”

 

“And when you grew up?” Laura teased.

 

“It’s one of my requirements in a lover that I never have to set foot in a kitchen,” she quipped, “and I’ve rarely had _any_ arguments on that score.”

 

They shared the warm laughter as they finished the meal, chatting amiably on less explosive subjects and took their wine back to the living area. Laura and William settled on the couch, while Kathryn took the armchair. After a few minutes of companionable silence, Laura took the bull by the horns.

 

“We’ve been--I've been skirting the issue all night,” she said quietly. “But I think that we really do need to know what’s in your archives about the Lords of Kobol. From the way you talk, it would seem that belief in one God is prevalent on Earth.”

 

Kathryn nodded. “But even that isn’t as simple as it may seem--the _God_ may be different among different groups and how they worship,” she said soberly. “The Christians--of which the Catholics are one offshoot--have a God that is a Holy Trinity, the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost and its followers believe that Jesus Christ was the Son of God who came down to Earth, was born of a mortal woman and died for the people’s sins. The God of the Jews, Yahweh, as I understand it, is basically the forerunner of the Christian God, but a major difference is that they do not believe that Christ was the Son of God and are still waiting for the promised Messiah to come. Then there is Allah, the Muslim God, which shares similarities with the Jews and Christians, but it is the differences that have kept them warring through the ages. There is Buddhism and all its offshoots, Hinduism, which has its own vast Pantheon of Gods, and Neo Confucism, which isn’t so much to do with God as it is about codes by which to live one’s life, plus dozens more.”

 

“And in all that, is there no place for the Lords of Kobol?” Laura asked.

 

“As I told William earlier tonight,” Kathryn replied, “I know of Orpheus and Eurydice--it is among one of our greatest heroic love stories. I also know of Zeus and Hera, Athena, Ares, Aphrodite, Apollo and Artemis, Hermes, Poseidon, Hades, Demeter and Dionysus. I know of the Fates and the Furies. I know of Gaea and Chronos, and great heroes like Achilles, Perseus, Jason and Hercules. But those Gods haven’t been worshiped in any meaningful way on Earth in over two thousand years.”

 

They looked at her in shock, unable to speak as she continued with brutal honesty. “And even then, in the last heyday of their worship, they weren’t known by their original names. The original civilization that worshiped this Pantheon was known as the Greeks and they flourished about three thousand years ago, before being supplanted by the Romans as the great power in the ancient world. The Romans appropriated the Greek Pantheon almost God for God, conflated them with their own local deities and changed their names. Zeus became Jupiter, Athena became Minerva, Ares was known as Mars, Aphrodite became Venus--although Apollo remained Apollo--Artemis became Diana, and so on. Then the Roman Empire fell, but before it did, worship of those old Gods was in turn supplanted by worship of one God, the God of the Christians, who is also worshiped by many modern Greeks as well. On Earth, the Gods you call Lords of Kobol--all their deeds and foibles--have passed into the realm of legend and ancient mythology. They are still studied academically, told as stories to our children, but no one really worships them any more.”

 

Laura gazed at William in the silence that ensued; to be told that your entire system of beliefs had been reduced to nothing more than children’s stories was a blow … a bloody body blow. It hurt more than Laura thought it ever could.

 

“We did ask,” William said gently.

 

Kathryn’s impassive face wavered through the tears that spilled unbidden down Laura’s cheeks. “Is that what we are to you?” she accused. “Children believing in _fables_?”

 

“No,” Kathryn replied, “not at all. In fact, in many ways I envy you and there are a lot of people from Earth who would feel this way. You’ve had for three thousand years or more, what Earth has only managed to accomplish in the last three _hundred_ ; relatively stable, united, healthy democracies and a belief system to bind you morally, to keep you from the worst excesses. After what I’ve told you of my world, which society do you think looks more mature, Laura? Why do you think we still teach our children about the ancient Greeks, their stories, their philosophy and system of government?”

 

Laura gasped in surprise and Kathryn laughed. “Don’t sell yourself, your people and least of all, your Lords of Kobol short,” she said. “They did a fine job setting you on the road to maturity, but the peoples of Earth were simply too immature. The Lords of Kobol simply got there too early in our development for their lessons to take hold in our collective consciousness.”

 

Laura and William looked at her smiling face in confusion. “What Lords of Kobol?” Laura snapped rising from the couch; her anger rose to match. She couldn’t believe that Kathryn would make a joke of this. “According to you there were no Lords of Kobol--just stupid fantasies and children’s stories!” she raged pacing the room.

 

“Of course there were Lords of Kobol,” Kathryn said grinning at their complete bewilderment and Laura stopped dead in her tracks. “They might not have been the Gods you think they were, but there most certainly existed. I even have pictures of them and the specifications of their ship when they left Earth less than three hundred years ago during our first wave of colonization attempts.”

 

“What?” Laura gasped; suddenly she felt faint. William rose and helped her back to the couch, holding her close.

 

“Three hundred years ago?” William asked. “What are you talking about? The colonies have been in existence for over twenty-five hundred years and the Sacred Scrolls say that our people flourished on Kobol with the Gods for at least another thousand before that!”

 

Kathryn laughed delightedly and Laura got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Yes and you’re correct, William,” she said with a distinct smirk. “But that’s time travel for you, which is why I try never to do it--it gives me such a headache when effect can precede cause. I doubt that your Lords of Kobol meant to do it, or even knew that they had time travelled until they returned to Earth from Kobol and found themselves in Ancient Greece.”

 

“Returned to Earth _from_ Kobol?" Laura whispered completely flabbergasted. "Time travel?”

 

“You’d better explain,” William said hoarsely as he topped up their wine glasses. Laura was grateful and took a bracing sip.

 

#

 


	12. Truth like a hammer falling against an anvil

“Remember what I told you about the interplexing flectures you’re headed for,” Kathryn said holding their gazes. “They’re conduits not only through space, but through time as well.”

 

“So even if you know which aperture to take to get you where you want to go,” William said, “if you don’t stabilize the flecture, you probably won’t end up _when_ you want to go.”

 

“Exactly!” Kathryn replied.

 

“Then why wouldn’t they have stabilized it?” he asked.

 

“Probably because they didn’t know it needed to be stabilized,” she replied. “Why do you think we’ve never used the flecture point at Alpha Centauri to explore this part of the galaxy and it’s in Earth’s own backyard? Even now, although they know it needs to be stabilized, no one on Earth--or the Federation and perhaps the entire alpha quadrant for that matter--knows _how_ to stabilize an interplexing flecture.”

 

“Then how do you …” William began before realization blossomed in his eyes and he laughed. “Because you learned how to do it on this journey,” he said in admiration.

 

“Yep!” she said impishly.

 

“I think my head’s going to explode,” Laura complained.

 

“Oh, you’ll get used to it,” Kathryn chuckled, “but I’m getting rather ahead of myself.” She leaned forward still smiling. “From my perspective, in Earth’s time-frame, right now it’s the year 2381 of the Common Era. Ancient Greek civilization was at its height between about 600 to 150 BCE, Before Common Era. We’ll start with Zephram Cochrane, who started the ball rolling on interstellar travel with the first warp ship in 2063. His warp flight attracted the attention of a Vulcan science ship just passing by on its way to more fascinating ports than our little backwater. The last time the Vulcans peeped in on us, we were still petty little barbarians intent on polluting our miserable little mudball and lobbing nuclear weapons at each other. Now little more than a quarter century later, we’re fooling around with warp technology and worse yet, playing with anti-matter--you want to talk about flirting with complete and utter annihilation of Earth and the human species, lose control of a milligram of anti-matter.

 

“Anyway, the Vulcans figured that since we’d got that far, they’d better take us in hand before we reduced ourselves and our world to sub-atomic particles. So like all good parents, they grounded us, supervised our experiments, and put us on a fairly short leash. Whenever we tried to run ahead too quickly, they yanked us back. And I can tell you, it chafed--it chafed badly. But after the better part of a century of sitting on us and teaching us some rudimentary manners and how to work with others, their little barbarians began to grow up enough to be inflicted on polite Galactic society.”

 

Laura couldn’t help but laugh at the way she told the story. It was so charming and _disarming_.

 

Kathryn held her gaze with a bright smile. “Now, during the period from about 2065 to 2150, the Vulcans allowed us to tool around in warp one ships while they whizzed around the galaxy at warp factors almost unimaginably fast to us. They gave us just enough information to whet our appetites, to force us to figure it on our own. But as I said, many people chafed at the way Vulcans seemed to patronize humans, felt that they were holding us back, which of course, they were. However, we still managed to set up colonies and had ships that plied the trade routes, upgrading as we learned by doing. But there were people who simply took off, pointed their ships towards deep space and were never heard from until decades or even centuries later when we stumbled across them again. And then there were those ships that simply fell through the cracks in the universe.

 

“In 2097, thirty-four years after the first warp flight, a large colony ship called the _Wings of Kobol_ , set out from Earth and simply vanished! The last recorded contact anyone had from it was radio contact with our space station at Alpha Centauri. The man who built this ship was named Alexander Dimitrios Cain--”

 

Laura was so caught up in the sound of her voice that she gave a little gasp at man’s name and met William’s gaze in complete shock.

 

“He was named Cain?” William blurted out.

 

“Yes, why?” Kathryn asked curiously.

 

“The original commander of _Pegasus_ was Admiral Helena Cain,” he replied. “She was assassinated by a Cylon.”

 

“Ah,” Kathryn said thoughtfully. “Anyway, Mr. Cain was a very rich man. He gathered a couple hundred followers--and their families--who found Vulcan rules intolerable to live under. He was also a man obsessed with ancient civilizations, especially ancient Greece and Persia; his family were of Greek and Turkish descent. What is now known as modern Turkey was once part of ancient Persia. In fact, the word _kobol_ is from ancient Persian and means _heaven_.

 

“Cain had a great vision of the world he wanted to create--a great civilization to rival ancient Greece and it would be a monument to the human spirit. So he loaded up his ship with the very best technology of the time, some the best scientific minds he could attract to his cause and the best thinkers and philosophers.” She smiled again and pulled the portable computer to her and after tapping in a few instructions, turned it to show them the display.

 

“ _Zeus_!” Laura whispered in reverence, looking at the face of her God in the display.

 

“No, Alexander Dimitrios Cain,” Kathryn replied gently. Another picture joined Zeus; a picture of a regal, golden-haired woman. “And this was his Hera, his wife, Alicia Baltasar.” After a moment, a third picture flashed up on the display and for a second, in this grey-eyed, raven-haired young woman, Laura saw her mother’s face--her Mommy, who had been the most beautiful woman to five-year-old Laura Roslin, not the woman who would waste away in a hospital bed twenty-five years later.

 

“And this was his Athena,” Kathryn said gently. “She was his Chief Scientist, an astrophysicist and mathematician at the forefront of quantum string theory and research. Her name was Dr. Marina Theodora Kieran.”

 

William looked at Laura in awe. “Your name, Laura,” he whispered, but she could say nothing as she stared at the picture. “Dr. Laura Kieran Roslin.”

 

“My grandfather on my mother’s side always said that it was an old family tradition since the founding of the Colonies,” Laura said hoarsely at last. “His name was Kieran Mulray; in my family they named at least one child in each generation Kieran, generally the eldest boy. When I was born, Grandfather insisted on it for my middle name. I had two older sisters and my uncles took a long time to settle down and start having children--anyway Grandfather was sure I would be a boy, and I guess when I turned out to be a girl, he was afraid there would be no boys in my generation.” She laughed as tears rolled down her cheeks. “But he used to call me his Athena.”

 

"Your grandfather sounded like a wise man," Kathryn said smiling. "Anyway, I do have Cain's crew and colony manifest as well as pictures some of the other principals in his venture. What happened after they reached the Alpha Centauri system and realized what the flecture was is anyone's guess. I can only speculate that they used it to get to this part of the galaxy and then went on to found Kobol, not realizing that they'd traveled back in time."

 

"But if they were only ordinary humans who had simply travelled back in time," William said, "how were they able to lead the Thirteenth Tribe back to Earth a thousand years later?"

 

"That, I believe, was the province of a Dr. Terrance Soros," she replied gravely. "He was a cell geneticist specializing in rejuvenation and life-prolonging technologies. During the first attempts at interstellar colonization, ships were so slow that a lot of technologies were investigated to ensure that people survived the long journeys--from cryostasis to anti-aging processes. Our guess is that once Soros perfected his process, he only used it on himself and the other principals of the mission."

 

"Why?" Laura asked hoarsely. "Why didn't he use it on everyone?"

 

"Because human beings weren't meant to endure that sort of modification," Kathryn said. "We've known about these technologies for hundreds of years, but there's a good reason for a moratorium on such research in the Federation and especially among humans. The psychological state called the god-complex psychosis that many of these techniques--and Soros' research field in particular--awakens in humans is extreme. Among other things, it would have produced unimaginable paranoia towards unaltered humans--there was no way they would have allowed their _subjects_ to share in it. After all, what do Gods need most?"

 

"Worshippers," Laura whispered her gut roiling.

 

"You must understand, Laura," Kathryn said gently. "They probably didn't know what they were playing with--not really. They would have woken up from the process with their bodies nearly indestructible, their minds expanded beyond what human beings were meant to endure and they would have become telepaths of the highest order. The other humans on the ship may not have understood what was happening at first, but once they started to figure it out, they probably would have been very afraid of them. But if only Cain and his cabal had control of the ship's operations--well, I don't imagine there was much they could do about it. Ordinary humans would have become like children to them and they would have gone about setting order to the lives of the mere mortals under their control. In the ship they had, their top speed would have been--at most--warp 3 for short periods and it would have taken them a generation or two to get from the nebula to Kobol. By that time, the original colonists would have died leaving only the seemingly immortal Gods. There would have been no one to contradict Cain that Kobol was the first world of humanity and that he'd created the people."

 

"Could they have really lived so long?" William asked after a long, stunned silence. "Could they really have been the same people who led humans back to Earth a thousand years later?"

 

"Using a combination of nano-tech rejuvenation and stasis, it is theoretically possible," Janeway replied. "They would have probably taken turns going into stasis while the others stood watch for a number of years--and of course, with their paranoia they would not have allowed any unaltered humans near where the stasis chambers were kept or near any of the technology they used to enhance their seemingly _god-like_ powers."

 

"The Lords were said to go journeying at different times," Laura said quietly as she forced herself to accept the truth. "They would sometimes disappear for years, but you're right, no one was allowed into the inner sanctum in the City of the Gods on Kobol. Only priests and those with special dispensation could even enter the inner gates of the City."

 

"Anyway, they must have had some idea of the catastrophe coming their way to terraform those twelve worlds your people eventually colonized," Kathryn continued. "Perhaps an asteroid strike or a problem with Kobol's star--perhaps it was an extinction-level event that they couldn't avoid or change--but they would have needed at least one hundred years warning. They would have started with the most Earth-like world, terraformed it, settled scientists and other people necessary to building infrastructure and then as quickly as the other worlds became available, settled the rest of Kobol's population on them."

 

"Caprica," Laura said. "Caprica was the first colony, and then Aquaria, Picon, Arilon, Tauron--"

 

"I'm a Tauron," Kathryn chuckled softly and then laughed outright at their confusion. "Taurus is one of our constellations, but it's also an astrological birth sign, depending on what part of the year you were born. My birthday, May 20th, falls at the end of the Taurus period. May is the fifth month of our year; after Taurus is Gemini, which starts on May 22nd. A friend and I had our signs done for a lark when we were teenagers--each astrological sign has a series of characteristics associated with it and are supposed to govern an individual's nature. If I remember correctly, _Taureans are solid, stable, practical, loyal, extremely determined to the point of stubbornness, can be prone to depression, slow to anger, but ferocious when provoked--they can explode in violent outbursts in which they seem to lose all control_. Nope, doesn't apply to me at all," she said with an impish smile that broke the tension again.

 

Laura said contemplatively, "On Kobol, in the Tomb of Athena, we were transported into a field within a circle of standing stones and shown the symbols of your constellations--when the Colonies were founded, they appeared on the original Colony flags. They were called by the old names--the names you used. It was said that on Earth, the Thirteenth Tribe could look up and see their twelve brothers in the sky. The reason we knew to head in this direction was the image of the Lagoon Nebula in the constellation of Scorpio and why we hoped to find Earth there--"

 

"The Lagoon Nebula!" Janeway exclaimed in disbelief. "The nebula you're headed for is definitely _not_ the Lagoon Nebula. The real Lagoon Nebula is only about five thousand light years from Earth--" She stopped short and considered their uncomfortable expressions. "Although, considering their astrometric tech in 2097, and the superficial similarities between the two, it is possible that they mistook what they were seeing, but why put it in Scorpio? Even if they had mistaken the nebula itself, Marina Kierans was enough of an astronomer to know that the Lagoon Nebula is in the constellation of Sagittarius not Scorpio."

 

"I have no idea," William said with a tired smile. "Every time I start to think I know something concrete, you come along and rearrange the universe. I just know that the ability to find astronomical markers like the--like _our_ Lagoon Nebula, M8, was required learning for anyone with hopes of commanding a vessel."

 

"Good God, the M8 designation has even survived," she said with a brilliant smile. "M8 is an old astronomer's shorthand for Messier 8 object--Messier was a famous astronomer. He started a famous catalogue of stellar objects. Another designation for the Lagoon Nebula was NGC 6523.”

 

“How do you _know_ all this?” Laura asked.

 

Janeway’s smile was nostalgic. “My father was very busy when I was a child,” she said quietly. “He was a Starfleet Admiral and rarely home. But the summer I turned nine, we spent every night for almost a month looking through the telescope he gave me for my birthday. I think it was the longest time we ever spent together and I wanted desperately to impress him.” She blushed and looked down at her hands. “As my sister, Phoebe, would put it, in my "typical _Kath-obsessive_ way", I memorized everything I could get my hands on just in case he asked me a question. I suppose I’ve always been mortified of not having the right answer when asked a question.” She looked up and smiled ruefully again. “The last ten years have cured me of the worst of that bad habit; out here, I rarely have all the right answers and sometimes not even a single one. It’s very humbling.”

 

“Don’t I know it,” William said. “Imagine fifty thousand people looking for you for answers and having nothing to tell them. There was nothing I could do but lie and spin a pretty myth for them--the myth of Earth and the Thirteenth Tribe.”

 

“Bill,” Laura said gently. “You did what you had to--what you needed to give us hope.”

 

He laughed. “Hope,” he whispered. “And when you began to make that hope a reality, I threw you in the brig.” Janeway’s brow rose nearly to her hairline and he laughed again. “When Laura wanted to send someone back to Caprica to get the Arrow of Apollo, the key to the Tomb of Athena, I wouldn’t even listen to her. Then she convinced Kara to go back to our Cylon-infested homeworld and I lost it, put her in the brig--damned near pulled off a military coup. Even my own son mutinied.”

 

“You know there was more to it than that,” Laura said clasping his hand. “And I’m sure if you hadn’t been shot by Lieutenant Valerii, you would have let me out after you calmed down.”

 

“Shot?” Kathryn said.

 

“Twice,” William replied, “in my own CIC no less. By an officer I trusted … an officer who’d just come back from blowing up a Basestar. We think they must have activated her then. She claimed to have no memory of it. Valerii was the Cylon cadaver we sent to your doctor.”

 

“I see.”

 

Laura decided to get the conversation back on track. “You’ll receive a full briefing tomorrow when you meet the Quorum,” she said and Kathryn nodded. “There are still a few things they’re reluctant to divulge, but I think I've convinced them that they should co-operate.”

 

Kathryn laughed at that and nodded. “Thank you,” she said. “What about the religious question? Will your Quorum and, more importantly, your people be able to deal with what I’ve told you tonight about Cain and his group?”

 

Laura held William’s gaze for long moments. “No,” she said at last.

 

“At least not the whole, blunt truth as you told it tonight,” William added. “It definitely won’t sit well that our Gods were simply dangerously psychotic humans hopped up on some longevity drug. Megalomaniacs who didn’t know what they were doing when they took the drug or when they fell through that flecture thing.”

 

“Actually, you’re lucky that they were megalomaniacs with such a strong sense of duty towards their people even in that god-complex state,” Kathryn said. “Believe me--you don’t _want_ to know what could have happened to your people if they’d been the weak-minded, amoral sort.”

 

Laura’s mouth was suddenly very dry as she and William stared at the other woman in horror.

 

“It may be different when we get to Earth and your Federation,” she said finding her voice again. “Once there, they won’t have a choice but to face the truth. And added to the religious uproar is the fact that now it seems that we came originally from Earth and not Kobol … how certain are you of that?” she asked quietly.

 

“Entirely certain,” Kathryn replied, the tone of her voice ringing with truth like a hammer falling against an anvil. “In fact, we have an abundance of hard, scientific evidence from fossil records that human beings evolved from a primatoid ancestor on Earth over two hundred and fifty thousand years ago and there ruins of ancient civilisations that date back almost ten thousand years, all of which have been rigorously studied and dated. Also, your modern written and spoken language is English, which evolved on Earth only about one thousand years ago, and the form you use, for the most part, was cemented through universal literacy for the last four hundred years.”

 

Laura swallowed hard and nodded as her entire worldview shifted yet again; _human beings evolved … on Earth over two hundred and fifty thousand years ago … ancient civilisations … date back almost ten thousands years_. It made her feel suddenly small and insignificant; it made everything she thought she knew about humanity and its place in the universe, utterly small and insignificant.

 

“There are already enough of Quorum members who simply want you and the changes they feel you represent to go away and they don’t even know the half of it,” she said with a harsh, strangled laugh. “Tell them this and they may … no, they _will_ become extremely hostile to you and your people in very short order. We could be looking at riots and loss of life we simply can’t control. We just don’t have enough security personnel to police our population spread out over so many ships and we can’t afford to lose people. However, I do know that the question of religion will undoubtedly be raised.”

 

“Then it’s time for the sugar-coated version,” Kathryn said with a wry smile as she tapped the computer again. An image appeared on the screen of blue skies and sparkling ocean dotted with green islands. Zooming in on one of the islands, Laura found herself staring at a great ruined temple on an Acropolis similar to the ruins on Kobol. “It’s time to give your people new hope and a new home.”

 

#

 


	13. Issues of Trust

The images of Earth’s Greek Isles were even more breath-taking projected onto the walls of the Quorum meeting place on Cloud Nine. Unwilling to let Zarek or the Gemenese set the meeting’s agenda, after introducing the Federation Captain, Laura had taken the bull by the horns and asked Janeway to describe what she knew of the Gods and the Thirteenth Tribe.

 

“As far as we know,” Kathryn began, “the beings you called the Lords of Kobol did come to Earth and were worshiped by a great civilisation we called the Ancient Greeks. Some of its great cities are still in existence today, such as Athens, so named for her patron Goddess, Athena. The Gods of the Greeks were said to live on the top of Mount Olympus and from there directed the lives of men.”

 

With tears in her eyes, Laura held William’s hand tightly as she watched the images and listened to Kathryn’s narrative describing the exploits of the Gods and ancient Heroes. Across the way, Kara and Lee were standing off to the side watching with the same awe.

 

“But people change,” Kathryn continued. “People migrate and forget their roots; civilisations rise and fall. We don’t know exactly what happened to cause the fall of the Greek civilization … but we know that there were great wars and other catastrophes. Other religions came to the forefront and many people no longer worshipped those Gods; in fact some people chose to worship one God, but the God was different depending on the culture. And as these ancient cultures clashed over land and resources, they also inevitably clashed over religions.

 

“I’m unsure when the Lords of Kobol left Earth or why, but as worship of them began to wane, a new civilization rose in the ancient world, in an area close to Greece--a place we now call Italy. That civilization was called the Romans. The Romans did not so much worship the Greek Pantheon as they appropriated them and changed their names so that Zeus became Jupiter, Athena became Minerva, and so on. Curiously enough, Apollo remained Apollo. The Romans went on to build one of the greatest empires in the ancient world.”

 

Here the images changed to show a map of the Roman Empire spread over one of Earth’s vast continents. “There is an old aphorism that all roads lead to Rome,” Kathryn continued, “and at this time, it was literally true. The Romans were inveterate road-builders and used those roads to spread their influence far and wide. However, roads do work both ways.

 

“In time, another religion rose to prominence within the Roman Empire; a religion called Christianity based on the worship of one God. The other monotheistic religions that were also prominent at this time were Judaism, which began here in what is still called the Holy Land,” she said highlighting it on the map, “and Islam in Ancient Persia, another of Earth’s great civilizations. But although people may worship similar gods, there was a lot of strife between the different religions, between different factions even _within_ each religion. That continued to be true throughout our history and Earth saw many bloody religious wars.”

 

Laura watched the delegates’ stricken faces closely, trying to judge how they were receiving this brief--and heavily edited--history of Earth. Hopefully, by the time they learned the truth, it would no longer be her problem or William’s.

 

“It has only been in the last three _hundred_ years--since we flew to the stars and realized that we were not alone in the galaxy--that Earth has seen true unification between all her peoples,” Kathryn continued. “However, because of the religious strife, it was necessary to codify our attitudes towards religion and make it a basic human right to worship whatever God or Pantheon of Gods a person chooses to believe in. On Earth, it is illegal to discriminate on the basis of religious belief; learning tolerance was the only way our world managed to overcome such sectarian violence and religious wars. Later, when the Federation was formed, Earth’s Council of Human Rights: Religious Rights Division became the template for the Federation’s Council of Sentient Rights and each world has its own Religious Rights Division.

 

“If you Colonials decide to settle down on Earth, then you would have to apply to the Council for a religious charter to practise your religion or build temples to your Gods.” A rumbling of angry voices built as they looked at the Federation captain in disbelief.

 

“We have to get _permission_ to practise our faith!” the Gemenese delegate, Sara Porter, shouted as she rose and played on the tide of outrage for all it was worth.

 

“Please, Ms Porter,” Janeway said calmly, “if I may continue my explanation?” As the noise level died down, she moved out from behind the lectern. “As I was saying, you will have to apply for a charter, but I know of very few religions that have been refused. The only issues on which a charter may be refused are issues of cruelty and hatred. As long as your religion does not promote the exploitation, physical or mental abuse of people or children, as long as it does not subscribe to excessive cruelty to animals, and as long as it does not promote hatred of other species or even other humans who do not share that faith, a religious charter will be granted.”

 

“What does cruelty to animals entail?” Thea Cole--a priest Laura recognised as one of Elosha’s friends--asked, her face clearly troubled.

 

“The Council recognizes that some faiths sometimes require a ritualistic bloodletting or sacrifice,” Kathryn replied. “As long as it’s done in a humane way and only a few chosen animals are used, then it is allowed. If it involves the slaughter of a large number of animals, then it would not be allowed. From what I understood of the ancient Greek religion, they weren’t much for animal sacrifices. Aside for the occasional virgin," she quipped lightly, "I thought fruits, grains, oils and spices were placed upon their altars, along with precious objects like jewels and gold or silver.”

 

“It depends on the God,” Cole replied. “Fruits and grain would be fine for Demeter or scented oils for Hera, but a God like Ares would demand a sacred ram on his Feast Day--not that we’ve had much to offer any Lord of Kobol these last two years.”

 

“I see,” Janeway said her face grave. Laura knew that this aspect of their religion would trouble her. “I don’t foresee a problem with Federation religious rights laws. The details would have to be worked out with the Council, but it would only be a problem if you started slaughtering animals by the job-lots or left them to die on your altar over a period of hours or days.”

 

“No Captain,” Cole said looking horrified and thoroughly sickened. “Traditionally, one animal is sacrificed once every twelve-year cycle in the Temple of Ares. We also have human rights and animal cruelty laws, Ma’am.”

 

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem,” Kathryn said. “Respecting religious plurality however, does extend to respecting those who choose not to subscribe to any faith. Inviting people, including atheists and agnostics, to share your faith and places of worship is allowed and if they come to your faith willingly, then I hope you will make them welcome. But organized recruitment by force or coercive indoctrination is strictly forbidden, _especially_ the recruitment of children or other legal minors.”

 

“Other legal minors?” Zarek asked.

 

“People of diminished capacity, Mr. Zarek,” she replied, “the mentally ill or developmentally delayed are considered people of diminished capacity. Evidence of such coercion would probably bring the full wrath of the Human Rights Council down on you.”

 

“And if they are born to your religion,” Sara Porter said belligerently.

 

“Then it’s perfectly fine to teach them your faith,” Kathryn replied evenly, “Until they say no. Then it becomes a human rights issue again. On Earth, among humans, the age of majority when a person is considered an adult is eighteen years. But a child is considered of sound enough mind at sixteen to be able to make choices about their education, their religious faith and sexual identity. However, for such young people seeking liberation from their parents or guardians on such matters as education or religion, they would be required to consult with a licensed counsellor to determine if it’s just a temper tantrum with their parents, peer pressure, boredom or a true crisis of faith or what have you. On matters of sexuality, we generally leave that to parents, teachers, doctors and perhaps the local authorities, only referring it to special counsellors for serious problems or infractions that impact on a minor’s human rights, health or safety.”

 

Stepping back behind the lectern, Kathryn took a deep breath and continued. “However, you may not want to settle on Earth,” she said and they looked at her in consternation again. “Most of the planet has been claimed by one group or another, and if national boundaries are no longer much of a problem, cultural ones still exist. We could probably absorb fifty thousand people into our population with few problems if you were spread out all over the globe, but in speaking to President Roslin, I would have to guess that you would want to stay together as a distinct community, a coherent culture and polity.”

 

“Yes,” Zarek said. “Absorbed into your population, there would be little left of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol within a generation or two.”

 

“I doubt that very much, Mr. Zarek,” Janeway said smiling. “In any case, that would then mean colonisation of another world inside the Federation or out of it if you wish. But I warn you now--our neighbours are not always very nice.” She met Laura’s gaze and her smile grew into a grin. “There is one world I have in mind within the boarders of the Federation. It’s fairly close to Earth--only about thirty-five light years away--and I’m fairly sure that the Federation Council will not object to it as an ideal solution for you.”   She brought up a schematic of a solar system. “It’s a beautiful, pastoral world in the Pollux system, the fourth from its sun, Beta Geminorum. We came across it approximately one hundred and twenty years ago and physically, it is ideal for colonization--”

 

“If it’s so ideal, why haven’t your people settled there?” Zarek asked sourly.

 

“We did try … twice,” she said, blue eyes sparkling. “Both times it freaked the colonists the hell out and they all left within a year. In fact, most eventually settled on the fifth planet of the system. It’s not as ideal, but with a bit of terraforming, it was made liveable.”

 

“What freaked them out?” Kara asked, curiosity sparking in her eyes.

 

“The voices of the Gods that rode the winds and asked the colonists for their faith,” Kathryn said with soft laughter in her voice as they all looked at her in confusion. “You see, when we first found that world, there was a being living on it--a being that appeared to be human, yet had great powers. A being, who called himself Apollo, demanded that the humans on that first starship worship him.”

 

A collective gasp echoed throughout the room as the image of Apollo appeared before them. Even second time around it still made Laura’s heart beat faster. Of course she knew that _Apollo_ was simply the remnant of a man called Terrance Soros who had tried to live forever, but at that moment, it didn’t matter.

 

“For my people, it was a myth made real,” Kathryn continued. “Apparently, when humans on Earth lost faith in them, the Lords of Kobol travelled to that world in the hopes that one day humans would follow them out into the galaxy and perhaps by that time, be ready to take their old Gods back into their hearts. Over the millennia they waited, but with no one to believe in or worship them, one by one they weakened, lost hope and faded to voices on the winds … all except Apollo, who never lost hope. However, by the time we discovered the planet, humanity on Earth and in the Federation had changed and as I’ve explained, demands for worship are not taken lightly. When Apollo tried to force the ship down and harmed the crew trying to force obedience and worship, Captain Kirk had no choice but to fight him. Kirk found a device that was keeping the being in corporeal human form and they destroyed it. Without the device, Apollo could no longer keep human shape. He became a being of pure energy and ascended to join the other Gods as a voice on the winds. However, what our people found, once that world was opened up for colonisation, was that they could indeed take corporeal form for short periods of time.

 

“These beings are what freaked the colonists out; we’re not used to having our gods appear among us at odd times and certainly not gods my people had come to regard as myths. They also tended to wreck havoc on blasphemers in their holy places. Now there are other worlds in the Federation that you could colonise and few people would object, but I think perhaps with a population that already believes in them, knows them for who they are and what they’ve done … with people to pray and build temples to them, the Lords of Kobol won’t be nearly as restless and destructive. They may even be very instructive, as they had been on Kobol and tried to be on ancient Earth.”

 

#

 

Kathryn studied the Quorum members as they tried to assimilate her words and prayed they would be too overwhelmed to ask any deep, probing questions. Meeting Laura’s gaze, she caught the subtle nod telegraphing that they needed to bring the meeting around to the subject of the Cylons.

 

“However,” Kathryn said, all humour gone from her voice. “None of us will be going anywhere, least of all to Apollo’s World, until I am satisfied that the Cylons will not be able to follow.” A hush fell over the Quorum like a pall.

 

“I would think that with your technological advantages over both us and the Cylons, that wouldn’t be a problem,” the representative from Canceron said warily. “In fact, we don’t understand why you didn’t simply destroy those basestars. Your Cobra fighters had rendered their weapons useless and you’d infected their computers with a virus. Why leave them to repair their ships and come after us again.”

 

“Because we’re Starfleet officers, not _murderers_ , sir,” Kathryn replied, keeping a lid on her anger.

 

“Murder?” Zarek said. “They’re machines, Captain Janeway! You can’t murder a machine.”

 

“As far as we can tell, they are sentient, self-aware machine consciousnesses,” Kathryn retorted. “And by Federation laws, the killing of a sentient, self-aware being without cause or justification would be construed as murder.”

 

“Without _cause_!” Sara Porter shouted in disbelief. “They destroyed our worlds, killed _billions_ of our people … real people … and you say we have no cause--no justification to kill them!”

 

Kathryn took a deep breath, forcing her voice to remain calm and even as it cut through the din.   “When we first encountered your ships, Ms Porter, we had no way of knowing what the Cylons had done to your worlds or your people,” she replied. “All we knew was that we had stumbled into someone else’s war and that our very presence had put fifty thousand lives in jeopardy. As such, we were honour-bound to protect you until we could remedy the situation … return you to as close to the state you were in before our accidental interference and that meant getting you back to being able to defend yourselves.

 

“My actions that day were predicated on nothing more than a desire to assist ships in mortal danger. I have been an explorer of space for most of my adult life. I know what it is--in the moments when I am most alone--I know what it is to hope that there is out there, someone willing to assist me and my crew when we are in need. However, that you were human played little role in my decision; we would have defended anyone--human or alien--whom our actions had put in jeopardy. No matter who you were, my crew would have fought for you, and if necessary, died for you. But it does not mean that we would commit _genocide_ for you!”

 

They all stared at her in stunned silence as her words sank in.

 

“Now what did you do to the Cylons that they have fixated on the complete and utter annihilation of the human species _everywhere_ as their only response our presence in the universe?” she demanded.

 

“We created them,” Laura replied.

 

“I see,” Kathryn replied. Her face was grave; she’d suspected this, but needed them to acknowledge it. “Please, continue.”

 

William took up the challenge, holding her gaze steadily as he spoke. “Until about five hundred years ago, during the Dark Times, we had little to do with space, except for the old merchant ships that plied the trade routes between the colonies; it sometimes took years to go between the different worlds. But as we began to reach for the stars again, our technology burgeoned to the point where approximately one hundred years ago, we began to experiment with sophisticated integrated computer networks in earnest. They were simple at first, but then we began to create machines of greater sophistication to the point where we created cybernetic servants, the first true artificial intelligences. In our collective hubris, we didn’t realize it at first, but even after we began to suspect that they were more than just intelligent--that they were self-aware--we continued to use them as servants … as slaves really … to do those jobs too dangerous or simply those jobs we didn’t want to do. And we used them to fight our wars.

 

“Then half a century ago, they rebelled,” he continued hoarsely. “They were wholly cybernetic creatures and could infiltrate any integrated computer network--we couldn’t compete with them. So we took a step backwards, dismantled those systems and stopped integrating our computers; it was our only defence. As they took to space and began all out war with our Colonies, we had no choice but to meet them in space. That is why the Battlestars were created. Forty years ago, we fought them to a stalemate and signed a treaty with them. After that, they vanished. Once a year we would send a single representative to a station in designated neutral territory to find out if there were any grievances from the Cylons and every year no one came to meet him.

 

“During that time, we became complacent,” he continued and Kathryn could hear the mourning and anger in his voice--see it in his expressive eyes. “My people fooled themselves into thinking that the Cylons were gone forever and felt that the need for such a large military was past. We began to demobilize and we began to use integrated networked systems again--put them into our defence grid and our ships; that is why _Galactica_ is so much less sophisticated than _Pegasus_. _Galactica_ was to be decommissioned and slated to become a floating museum attached to the Department of Education.”

 

He looked wryly at Roslin and Kathryn felt a smile tug at her lips; now she knew how the Secretary of Education had come to be in the position to become President.

 

“The first we knew that the Cylons had returned was when their Basestars appeared in orbit of our worlds and began to drop thermonuclear warheads. They had completely infiltrated our computer systems and defence grids. They overwhelmed us before we could even begin to mount any kind of response. Then the shocker came, Captain Janeway,” he said, his voice harsh and grating. “The Cylons had created human-form infiltrators and there were sleeper agents among us who could fool even our best tests. Dr. Baltar has managed to come up with a test for them, but so far it hasn’t proved one hundred percent reliable. We’ve received some intelligence that there are only twelve models of the human-form Cylons, but I don’t know how solid it is.”

 

Laura took up the narrative quietly. “When I sent Captain Thrace back to Caprica for the Arrow of Apollo, she was captured for a time by the Cylons and they began to experiment on her,” she said. “She reported that the Cylons are … are gathering those human survivors they can find and for a lack of a better term they’re _farming_ them. The human-form apparently can’t reproduce except through cloning--when one dies, its consciousness is transferred to another clone body of that model--so they are attempting to use human women to grow hybrids.”

 

Kathryn could feel the blood drain from her face; she glanced off to the right of the Quorum room. Kara Thrace stared straight ahead, her face devoid of emotion. What these people had been through was horrendous, but she forced herself to remain objective as Roslin continued.

 

“Before she escaped from them, Kara was able to destroy the farm they were holding her on, but from the reports, there may be a lot more of these facilities. We know that hybridisation is possible because one of our officers got a female Cylon pregnant before he realized what she was. During the battle, one of our raptors was shot down over Caprica and found a group of survivors. Lieutenant Agathon gave up his seat to Dr. Baltar and was marooned on Caprica. Later, the raptor pilot, Lieutenant Valerii, seemed to return for him and together they hid from the Cylons; she was a copy of course, sent to seduce him, but Agathon had no way of knowing this. Then the unthinkable happened and it seems that she actually fell in love with him if that’s possible. She wanted to keep her child and get away from the Cylons. She helped Agathon and Kara escape from Caprica and return to the fleet. But meanwhile, the Valerii we had onboard _Galactica_ had committed acts of sabotage and tried to assassinate Admiral Adama.”

 

As Roslin fell silent Kathryn regarded them for a few moments before speaking. “Thank you, President Roslin, Admiral Adama, ladies and gentlemen of the Quorum--for trusting me enough to tell me that,” she said hoarsely. She stopped and cleared her throat. “I know it couldn’t have been easy. There are more questions that I’ll need to have answered, but they can wait. What cannot wait, however, is the _security_ of this fleet.”

 

“What do you mean, Captain,” Zarek asked; his eyes were shrewd, calculating.

 

“I mean, Mr. Zarek,” she said holding his gaze, “that almost from the moment we encountered you, we’ve noticed a strange network of signals on a signature neuralgenic carrier-wave frequency linking your ships, yet you seemed curiously unaware of it.” They all gaped at her in shock; Roslin looked as white as a proverbial sheet and her trembling hand flew to her mouth. “At first they were also dampened by the interference from the slipstream wavefront radiation, but since your ships’ active systems came back online, especially when the jump engines were reactivated, some of your ships also began to broadcast that signal.”

 

“My Gods,” Zarek whispered horror evident on his face. “We’ve been leading them straight to us.”

 

“Apparently so, Mr. Zarek,” she said watching their devastated faces carefully. After a moment she relented and smiled. “However, ladies and gentlemen, as we couldn’t imagine what legitimate purpose those signals served, we rather figured they were the work of your Cylon infiltrators and took it upon ourselves to block them.”

 

“You’ve been blocking them?” Adama said; hope flared in his eyes once more.

 

“As I said, Admiral Adama,” Janeway replied. “We take the security of the Federation very seriously. As I deemed you to be possible Federation allies and a prospective member, Federation treaty rules came into play.” Laura’s involuntary laugh broke the tension in the room; there were tears in her eyes and Kathryn noticed that she slipped her hand into Adama’s. “And we of the Federation try very hard to be good to our family and friends.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell us this before?” Baltar demanded.

 

“Why didn’t you tell us that you’d created the Cylons until now?” she replied. “Plain and simple, it was an issue of trust. I had to be sure of you before I interfered. Jamming those signals was as much for our security as it was for yours. The signals are similar to Borg signals that connect the individual drones to the hive-mind of the Collective. The Cylons are somewhat less sophisticated than the Borg--they can’t help but bleed the signal all over the place--but the same principles of neural-cybernetic linkage seems to apply. I imagine we’ve caused quite a bit of consternation among our Cylon friends since they’ve been out of touch with each other and their fleet. But now it’s time to get them out of _your_ fleet.”

 

“How?” Adama asked.

 

She was silent again for a few moments before speaking. “Now that--Admiral Adama--is another issue of trust,” she said. “For security reasons, I cannot discuss how we will do it until after it’s done.” The silence that greeted her statement seemed to suck the air out of the room. “I will require carte-blanche from you to handle this in my own way. I will need you to _trust_ me.”

 

#

 

 


	14. Biology Lessons

A roar of protest greeted her statements.

 

“Surely you cannot expect us to give you blanket permission to do with the citizens of this fleet as you will,” Sara Porter shouted over the din. “We need details about what you intend to do and assurances that it won’t violate our people’s civil rights.”

 

“No.”

 

That single word sent the politicians into a frenzy of cross-talk and arguments. Kathryn studied them curiously before returning her attention to Roslin and Adama. The colonial leaders shared a significant look.

 

“Enough!” Adama roared and many reared back as if slapped. “Madam President, I would say this is a fleet security matter and as such it is a military matter. Do you concur?”

 

Roslin smiled. “I concur whole-heartedly, Admiral Adama,” she replied.

 

“There is your _permission_ , Captain,” he said turning to Janeway.

 

Kathryn nodded and slapped her commbadge. “Janeway to _Voyager_ \--energize!”

 

“Adama, you can’t unilaterally authorise--” Zarek began and then gasped in horror as Sara Porter disintegrated before his eyes. One of the older priests tried to make a run towards Adama and Roslin … and _vanished_ in mid-stride. The reporter D’Anna Biers screamed as she, too, vanished. Raymond Kray, the representative from Canceron, started in surprise as he disappeared.

 

In the funeral hush that fell over the room, a pale Laura Roslin turned to thunder-stricken Tom Zarek and said, “Well, Tom, it would appear that you’re not a Cylon after all.”

 

“What in Hades just happened?” Zarek demanded recovering his voice.

 

“Where did they go?” Adama asked almost simultaneously.

 

“To my brig,” Kathryn answered simply.

 

“But they--they disintegrated!” Baltar shouted hysterically.

 

Kathryn smiled broadly. “Well technically … yes,” she said with a chuckle. “But only for a few milliseconds, then they were re-integrated in _Voyager's_ brig.” Even Adama and Roslin stared at her as if she’d gone mad. “Janeway to Chakotay--Commander, would you like to join the party?”

 

“I’ve got my dancing shoes on and everything, Captain,” her second in command replied with laughter in his voice.

 

She enjoyed their flabbergasted expressions as Chakotay solidified next to the podium. He bowed with a flourish and handed her a tricorder and a PADD. Checking the data, she smiled even wider.

 

“How?” Baltar asked hoarsely.

 

“It’s called a transporter, Dr. Baltar,” Chakotay replied chuckling. “You could ask Kathryn to explain the physics and mathematics behind it, but then we’d be here a while. Basically, it’s a device that disassembles matter atom by atom in one place and then reassembles it in another.”

 

Kathryn handed the tricorder back to Chakotay and he hooked it into the holographic relay she’d been using in her demonstrations.

 

“There are currently fourteen individual Cylon bio-mechanoids representing eight models in _Voyager’s_ brig,” Kathryn said. “All have been rendered unconscious by the transporter and we’ve flooded the holding cells with anaesthesine gas to keep them unconscious until we decide what to do with them. The infant of course, has been sent to sickbay.”

 

Again pandemonium broke out over her words.

 

“The hybrid child is alive?” Zarek demanded bearing down on Roslin and Adama. “I thought that you’d--” He stopped short, as if suddenly remembering where he was and who he was talking to.

 

Roslin returned his gaze coldly; she crossed her arms in front her chest and her eyes hard. “You thought that I’d _what_ , Mr. Zarek?” she asked. “Killed the baby? I may be a heartless, ruthless bitch when I need to be, but not even I’d kill an innocent, defenceless child!” Tom Zarek had the good sense to back off.

 

“You said she died at birth,” Baltar croaked.

 

As the stunned silence dragged on, Kathryn called gently, “Laura?”

 

“We had to protect her,” Roslin replied hollowly. “We couldn’t kill her, but we couldn’t allow the Cylons to know that she lived and we could never be sure Valerii wouldn’t betray us. We couldn’t allow her to raise the child. Valerii had a difficult delivery; there were complications and it wasn’t hard to convince her that the baby had died. Of course, she also thought that I’d killed the child, but I decided that I could live with that. A stillborn baby was born on the _Pegasus_ a few days earlier--the mother had been raped and wanted nothing to do with it … didn’t even want to know if it lived or died. Dr. Cottle and I switched them, and then I fostered her out. The foster mother doesn’t know that she’s half-Cylon.”

 

“Actually, she’s not,” Kathryn said with an enigmatic smile as they looked at her again in confusion. “Half-Cylon, that is,” she continued and their confusion deepened. “From our Doctor’s scans, the human-form Cylons are bio-mechanoids, clones grown incorporating Cylon programming, technology and nano-tech from gestation. However, this child appears to be fully human with a small population of nanoprobes that are essentially blank of programming. As the child’s body is not yet dependent on the nanoprobes, and no silicate neural pathways have been laid down in her central nervous system, if we were to remove them tomorrow, she would be a perfectly healthy _human_ child.”

 

“B-but nano-tech … technology is impossible!” Baltar sputtered.

 

“Not at all,” Kathryn said smiling. “That was the aspect of the child’s blood that cured Ms Roslin. Just ask your friend--” He looked at her in abject horror. “You know, doctor, the tall blonde standing right next to you.”

 

Baltar backed away from her as she stalked around the podium towards him. “You’re crazy!” he shouted. “There’s no one here. Get away from me!” He looked wildly around; Roslin and Adama regarded him in confusion, which rapidly gave way to comprehension and then utter hatred. There was only confusion in the eyes of the other members of the Quorum and Cabinet.

 

“Chakotay,” Janeway said. _Voyager’s_ XO tapped the controls on the device. The image of the beautiful blonde Shelly Godfrey model shimmered into existence; she looked absolutely dumbstruck.

 

Lee Adama and Kara Thrace, as well as the Colonial Marines, all drew their weapons and focused them on the Cylon's image. Kathryn held her hand up to them to hold their fire as she walked towards the projection.

 

“Gaius …” she said in a low, desperate voice. Her look of shock, when she realized everyone could hear her as well, was priceless. “How is this possible?”

 

“You’re broadcasting a signal, my dear,” Kathryn said with a dangerous smile. “You’re a machine and sweetheart, I haven’t met a machine yet that I haven’t been able to take apart and figure out since I was five years old. We’ve simply downloaded that signal from the nanoprobe complex embedded in your dear Dr. Baltar’s brain.”

 

“But I had a full brain scan after I started seeing her!” Baltar blubbered, staring at the Cylon’s image in horror. “I thought that somehow the Cylons managed to put a chip in my brain or that I was going crazy. But Dr. Cottle said there was nothing there … he _promised_ me that weren’t any tumours or abnormal structures there!”

 

Kathryn’s smile thinned. “Dr. Cottle’s scanner can’t resolve the living brain down to the individual neurons and cells,” she said. “Once your Cylon friend knew that you were being scanned, she simply dissolved the structure and had the nanoprobes scatter throughout your brain to hide--to mimic cells in your brain. Once the scan stopped, the nanoprobes simply came back together to re-assemble the complex.”

 

“What are nanoprobes?” Zarek asked.

 

“Microscopic machines on the order of individual cells,” Kathryn replied. “Federation doctors have used similar technology therapeutically to deliver medications or make genetic repairs in individual cells or cell populations. However, our enemy--the Borg--use them to turn other species into cybernetic Borg drones and rewire their brains to accept Borg programming. It appears that the Cylons also use them in a similar way--to encode memory engrams in addition to keeping their bio-mechanoid bodies in peak condition.”

 

“M-memory engrams?” Laura asked fearfully as she watched Baltar sink to the floor holding his head and rocking back and forth.

 

Kathryn walked over to the Cylon hologram and turned the device off. She then called again to her ship to have the distraught Baltar transported to her sickbay isolated behind a level ten forcefield and watched him disappear before turning to answer Laura.

 

“It’s how memory is stored in the synapses of the brain on the molecular level, Madam President,” Kathryn said gently. “Once you know how they are encoded in the cells’ electrical potential, it is possible to decode them.”

 

“It could read his mind?” she said and the edge of hysteria in her voice startled Kathryn who nodded without stopping to think about it. “But I have those things in _me_. Baltar injected me with the baby’s blood!”

 

“And remember what my Doctor told you about them?” Kathryn said gently. “The child’s nanoprobes were blank except for the basic cell repair functions--in fact, I believe that was their original function before the Cylons got a hold of them and re-engineered them.”

 

“I don’t understand,” Adama said, taking Laura’s hand and pulling her close. “Re-engineered? From what--from where? I thought the Cylons created the human-form bio-mechanoids. Wouldn’t they have created these _nanoprobes_ as well?”

 

“They did create the bio-mechanoids,” Kathryn replied, “by cloning from actual human beings, then genetically and cybernetically manipulating the clones from the embryo stage. They probably used human prisoners for their original templates--captured during your first war perhaps? Maybe that is why there are a limited number of models. It was then that I believe the Cylons made their biggest mistake and shot themselves in the foot--they began cloning from the clones, probably improving each model as their genetic engineering and biocyber-programming got more sophisticated, so that they had better cybernetic control of each clone generation."

 

"Why would that be a mistake?" Zarek asked thoroughly puzzled.

 

Kathryn smiled wolfishly. "Because, Mr. Zarek, when you clone from clones, you eventually make a hash of the human genome," she said and they stared at her in shock. "That's been known to my people for the better part of the last three centuries, but it was a common mistake of naive eugenicists in the past that glommed onto serial cloning as a way to produce _perfect_ or _controllable_ human societies. The human genome is such that as you make copies of copies, subtle mistakes start to creep in and accumulate--and you eventually end up with in-viable clones. It's called _replicative fading_ and it tends to happen more quickly as the clones are force-grown rapidly to maturity. Eventually, these serially cloned models will lose their human intelligence--the nanoprobes are helping, but it's not enough. What the Cylons should have done was continue to clone from the original individual humans, but then they would have lost the improvements and the control of the subsequent generations offered by serial cloning--unless they were willing to painstakingly reproduce those improvements every single time the made a new batch of clones."

 

"But the original Cylons wouldn't have thought that way," Adama said shrewdly. "Once a machine makes a copy of another machine, it's identical--if there is a mistake, it simply replaces the part or rewrites the line of corrupted code. They would have thought the same way about their human-copy bio-mechanoids."

 

"Exactly, Admiral Adama," Kathryn replied. "But humans are a lot more complicated--we can't take much corruption of our code. That's why sexual reproduction--genetic recombination--is so important in almost every humanoid species we've come across … in fact, important in most higher-order organisms. Barring catastrophic genetic mutations that render an organism unviable, sexual reproduction mitigates those sorts of mistakes in DNA replication. As for where the Cylons got the original nanoprobes, I think they got them from you Colonials.” Her words were greeted by utter dismay and no little amount of horror, but she forged quickly ahead. “I suspect that the original purely inorganic machine Cylons began to study humans after your first war, perhaps to understand their enemy better, and they discovered something very interesting about the cell structure in certain Colonial humans.

 

“In you, like humans from Earth, your mitochondria are the powerhouses of your cells. But my Doctor notes that in many of you, your mitochondrial DNA has quite a few genes that Earth humans don’t have; genes that help in the maintenance of your cells’ integrity and have nothing to do with energy production. However, in about three percent of the Colonials he has seen, those genes are not on the mitochondrial DNA strand, but in an entirely separate DNA strand in an organelle _inside_ your mitochondria. Furthermore, in some people, this organelle shuttles in and out of the mitochondrion whenever the cell is badly damaged and jump-starts repairs _before_ nuclear repair mechanisms even begin to respond.”

 

"What does this have to do with these nanoprobe machines?" Zarek demanded.

 

"Well," Janeway said. "We believe that the Cylons reverse-engineered the nanoprobes using that repair organelle as the template. Unlike Borg nanoprobes--or Federation nanoprobes for that matter--which are completely inorganic machines, the Cylon nanoprobes are bio-mechanoid in nature and part of the organic side of the controls corresponds in large part to the DNA found in your repair organelle. And why not, it was a quite elegantly designed organelle."

 

"Designed?" Laura asked hoarsely. "Who--when?"

 

Kathryn laughed. "Can't you guess, Madam President?" she said gently and realization flared in Roslin's eyes. "They were sending their people to new, untried worlds--don't you think that your Lords of Kobol would want to give them all the advantages they could? It was a gift, Laura, one designed to insure that their people would survive."

 

"Then why doesn't everyone have it?" Zarek asked suspiciously.

 

"As I said, everyone--I mean, all Colonial humans do--or rather did have it once upon a time," Kathryn replied. "But our bodies are constantly evolving and evolutionary pressures play a large part in determining what structures are retained and what is lost. For example, some of the genes associated with the mitochondria found in Earth human cells are found in the cell nucleus of Colonial humans.

 

“I think that as your people adapted to the different environments of the Colonies, subtle changes and mutations occurred in the repair organelle in different segments of your population. As it stands, we've already identified thirty-two distinct changes in your population and that's just based on the few hundred of your people my Doctor has come in contact with--changes that include everything from functional organelles to just a handful of genes in your mitochondrial DNA. But we also think that this is why the Cylons specifically had the _Valerii_ model try to get pregnant once they recognised that they had to go back to sexual reproduction and why that child is so important to them. As well as trying to solve their replicative fading problems, they were probably trying to reconstitute the genome of the original organelle. According to my Doctor, the original human Valerii they based their bio-mech clones on had one larger segments of the organelle DNA compared to the other Cylon models, while Lieutenant Agathon probably possesses a partially functioning organelle with quite a large DNA segment with many genes Valerii didn't possess. All the Cylons on Caprica would have needed was a small sample of his blood or skin tissue to test to find that out.

 

“As to why the child's nanoprobes are blank, the Valerii Cylons, unlike the other models we've scanned, have two populations of nanoprobes, the normal control ones with the Cylon-programmed memory engrams and blanks with only her piece of the genome and no programming. Blank nanoprobes awaiting recombination with the genetic information of someone like Lieutenant Agathon. I would surmise that the Valerii infiltrator that tried to kill you, Admiral Adama, would also have been programmed to form a romantic liaison to try and get pregnant. Now, I don't know how close the Agathon child's nanoprobes are to having all the genes of your original organelle, but from what my Doctor reports about the combination of the Agathon and the Valerii pieces of the genome, it is probably a significant chunk."

 

The silence that settled over the room was oppressive. Kathryn stood next to Chakotay and drew some comfort from his presence as they waited for the Colonials to digest the information she'd thrown at them. The young woman priest who'd questioned her about the animal sacrifices met her gaze; Kathryn could see the intelligent eyes studying her shrewdly.

 

"What will you do with the Cylons you've captured, Captain Janeway," the young woman asked.

 

"That is something I will have to consider very carefully," Kathryn replied gravely. "I can't afford to have them follow us, but destroying an entire people--no matter how they came into existence--doesn't sit well with me either."

 

"Who says it's your decision?" Zarek sneered. "It was our worlds they destroyed."

 

Kathryn was silent as she regarded him for long minutes. Finally, "It is my decision, Mr. Zarek, because they are in my custody, and because I am the one in possession of the knowledge of how to destroy _all_ Cylons everywhere!" she ground out harshly.

 

#

 

 


	15. Hera

Kathryn studied Roslin and Adama as they sat side by side on the couch in her ready-room on _Voyager_. They had just transported to the ship, but even the novelty of that extraordinary experience had quickly worn off given the gravity of the revelations made at the Quorum meeting.

 

“I understand why you did it,” Kathryn said gently as she sat down next to Laura. “But I can’t, in good conscience, condone it or allow it to continue.” Her voice caught and broke as she met Laura’s miserable grey-green eyes. The Colonial President looked away, shame flaming her cheeks.

 

“I won’t be a party to separating a mother from her child if I can help it,” Janeway continued hoarsely. “I cannot separate parents from their child unless I deem that the child is in danger and there are no other alternatives. However, I believe my Doctor can neutralize that danger; you may consider it foolhardy on my part, but I have to try. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t, and I’ll take full responsibility for them.”

 

“We understand,” Adama said; his voice was hoarse and thick. He drew Laura’s hand onto his lap and held it tightly. “But you must understand that we didn’t make this decision lightly. I care about Agathon as much as I do about Dee, Tyrol, Cally, Kat, Hot Dog--any of my pilots or crew. After everything we’ve been through, it’s hard not to get to know them and to even love them.”

 

Kathryn nodded and he continued after a ragged breath. “And before she shot me, I cared about the person I knew as Sharon Valerii. I cared about that young, vulnerable raptor pilot who could soar like a hawk, but couldn’t make a landing without leaving half the undercarriage strewn across the deck. I cared about the young woman who was head over heels in love with Chief Tyrol and I thought she cared about us. But in the end, that camaraderie and friendship and love counted for nothing when her Cylon programming took control and she tried to kill me. And though we knew that the Valerii whom Agathon had impregnated was a different individual, we couldn’t be sure that somewhere inside her, there wasn’t a switch that some damned Cylon could flip and she would try to destroy us. We couldn’t take that chance--not when fifty thousand lives hung in the balance.”

 

“Chakotay to Janeway.” Her first officer’s voice broke the heavy silence. “Captain, Lieutenant Karl Agathon has arrived from _Galactica_.”

 

“One moment please, Commander,” Kathryn said and turned her gaze back to the two people before her. She held out her hand to them, palm facing up. After a moment, Laura laid her hand in Kathryn’s and William’s broad hand covered it. Kathryn covered his with her free hand and patted it gently before letting go and rising.

 

“Commander Chakotay, please send Lieutenant Agathon in now.”

 

“Aye, Captain,” Chakotay replied.

 

A moment later, the ready room door opened and Chakotay escorted in a tall, good-looking young man who immediately came to stiff, formal attention; there was confusion in his blue eyes as his gaze came to rest on Adama and Roslin. Kathryn nodded to Chakotay and he left without a word.

 

“At ease Lieutenant, before you sprain something,” she quipped as his eyes flew to hers in surprise.

 

“Ma’am?”

 

“I prefer Captain,” she said.

 

“Yes, Captain,” Agathon replied settling into something approximating a parade rest.

 

“Please, have a seat, Lieutenant Agathon,” Kathryn said gesturing him to one of the arm chairs. He settled uneasily into it and she resumed her seat next to the Colonial leaders. “I’ll get right to the point, Lieutenant,” she said and he nodded. “How much do you know about the current disposition of the Cylons in the Colonial fleet?”

 

“Nothing Ma’am--uh, Captain,” he replied earnestly. “I wish to the Gods that I could help, but I don’t know anything. I tried to get Sharon to help identify them, but she won’t. In fact, she refuses to speak to me and today--” His glance flicked to his commanding officer and then down to his hands fidgeting on his lap. “Today I wasn’t allowed into the brig to see her, but then things have been weird--what with reports of people disappearing in the fleet and so many senior officers out of contact.”

 

“The reason you weren’t allowed to see her is that she’s no longer on _Galactica_ , Helo,” Adama said quietly using his call-sign. The young man’s eyes flew to Adama’s face; his alarm was evident. “She’s here on _Voyager_. In fact, all the Cylons in the fleet have been identified and are now in _Voyager’s_ brig, unconscious.”

 

“How?” he demanded. “I was Officer of Flight Deck Operations today. None of _Voyager’s_ shuttles have docked with _Galactica_.”

 

Adama shook his head in bemusement. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said. “But we can get into that later. Right now, we need to talk to you about--about Sharon and about …”

 

“And about your baby,” Laura finished, lifting her gaze to meet Agathon’s.

 

Grief etched the young man’s face. “Our baby is dead,” he croaked.

 

“No,” Laura replied and he stared at her uncomprehending. “No, she isn’t. Dr. Cottle and I switched her for a stillborn child that had been delivered on _Pegasus_ a few days earlier. Then I fostered her out.”

 

_“Why?”_

 

There was grief and terrible fury wrapped up in that single word as he rose from his seat.

 

“Why would you do something like that to us?” he cried. “Sharon helped us! She did _everything_ we asked and all she asked for was her baby--she only started refusing to help after you told her the baby was dead! You let her believe you’d killed our child! How could you be so cruel--and how could you let her, Sir?”

 

Adama rose to face the young man. “Let’s get one thing straight, Karl,” he said. “I knew exactly what President Roslin and Dr. Cottle planned and they had my full support _every_ step of the way. In fact, _they_ are the reason your daughter wasn’t put out an airlock the moment she was born. They were the ones who looked for a compromise--a way to keep this fleet safe and keep us from perpetrating a terrible crime against an innocent that would stain our very souls!”

 

Agathon stepped back; tears streaked his face as he nodded mutely.

 

“Do you really think I don’t remember what _this_ Sharon did for us?” Adama continued. “Do you think I could ever forget that I was beholden to a _Cylon_ for saving our collecive asses? I know exactly what she did, but I also know why she did it. Because of you. Because of that child. But I could never be sure if that was enough to trust her--even now, it goes against everything I am to even consider trusting her. Because, you see, I know what that other Sharon had done for us and I _knew_ her feelings for Tyrol. Yet in the end it wasn’t enough. In the end, _they_ flipped a switch in her head and everything we thought she felt for us didn’t matter. In the end, nothing mattered but her _programming_."

 

"Programming my doctor may be able to circumvent and even neutralize in _your_ Sharon Valerii," Kathryn said.

 

Agathon looked at her with such hope in his eyes, trembling as he lowered himself into the armchair again.

 

“And that is what we’re here to discuss,” Kathryn continued as Adama also resumed his seat next to Roslin. “To find the Cylons in your fleet, we were able to use _Voyager’s_ sensors to identify people with certain microscopic machines called nanoprobes in their bodies, including Sharon and your baby. As Admiral Adama indicated, it may be a little difficult to believe, but we have technology that is capable of almost instantaneous matter-energy transport--” Agathon looked at her in complete confusion and she smiled. “It means that we’re able to take an object or a person in one place, dematerialise them--break them down into their constituent atoms--store their patterns as energy, and then re-materialise them in another place of our choosing.”

 

 _“What?”_ He gaped at her in utter disbelief.

 

Kathryn laughed tiredly. “The details are not important, Lieutenant,” she said. “Suffice it to say, we took Sharon from your brig and transported her to ours, along with the other Cylons in the fleet--hence your disappearing people. But that’s why none of _Voyager’s_ shuttles needed to dock with _Galactica_. We needed to catch all the Cylons at once; they’re all currently unconscious in our brig. However, we transferred the baby directly to our sickbay, as the anaesthesine gas would have affected her rather badly, and we’ve since transferred Sharon to sickbay as well. My Doctor reports that she should wake up from the anaesthesine quite nicely."

 

"So now what?" Agathon said bitterly.

 

“That will, in part, be up to you, Lieutenant, and Ms Valerii,” Kathryn said holding his gaze. “Admiral Adama and President Roslin have agreed with me that it would be unfair to continue to separate you and Ms Valerii from your child. To that end, I would like to propose that you remain on board _Voyager_ as Admiral Adama’s representative, while I send Lieutenant Kim and Ensign Tal Celes to _Galactica_ as my representatives. Your people can barely handle a human-Cylon relationship; I doubt they’re ready to deal with a human-Cylon hybrid. But for my people, human-alien hybrids are a fact of life.”

 

The three Colonials gasped, utterly stunned by her statement.

 

“Kathryn?” Laura croaked; Kathryn could see the instinctive revulsion, horror and fear in her eyes.

 

“In fact, they’re such a reality, you’ve already met one,” Kathryn continued, holding their gazes in turn. “B’Elanna Torres is a human-Klingon hybrid; her father is human, a Starfleet officer, and her mother, a Klingon warrior.” She watched carefully as their fear and horror turned to surprise and then acceptance. Suddenly Laura barked an incredulous laugh.

 

“I wondered about the name “Torres”,” she said.

 

Kathryn nodded and smiled, allowing herself to relax a little. “And B’Elanna is married to Tom Paris, so their daughter, Miral, is also a hybrid; in this case one quarter Klingon,” she explained. “As well, Naomi Wildman, the first child born on _Voyager_ , is also a hybrid. Her mother, Samantha Wildman is human and her father--who remains in the alpha quadrant--is K’Tarian. When you meet her, you’ll notice that though she’s only nine years old, she looks about thirteen; it’s a consequence of her K’Tarian heritage. They mature faster than humans.”

 

“But how is it possible?” Laura asked. “The amount of genetic engineering--”

 

“It’s not insurmountable for us,” Kathryn said quietly, “especially among humanoids. When we get to the alpha quadrant, remind me to teach you all about the Preservers and all the other god-like beings out there. Your Lords of Kobol weren’t the first to play around with the human genome, and we humans certainly aren’t the first iteration of the humanoid form, or for that matter, terribly unique. In fact, humans and a species we call Betazoids can hybridise without any medical intervention most of the time.”

 

“But doesn’t it mean then that the two are the same species?” Adama asked in confusion.

 

Kathryn laughed. “You’d think so, except for the fact that Betazoids, as a species, are natural telepaths--every single last one of them, barring disease or injury,” she replied as their eyes widened in shock again at the thought of an entire species of telepaths. “No, it’s simply that their genome has evolved in such a way that it is compatible with a number of humanoid species with the minimum of problems, and the children are generally viable and fertile. The only difference is that the hybrids tend to be very weak telepaths, but very strong empaths.”

 

“Empaths?” Laura asked.

 

Kathryn’s smile widened. “Whereas telepaths can read thoughts, most empaths read emotions, feelings and intentions rather than thoughts,” she replied holding Laura’s gaze significantly until the other woman nodded. Kathryn turned back to Agathon. “However, Lieutenant Agathon, as I’ve explained to President Roslin, Admiral Adama and the Quorum, your child is not truly a hybrid--not in the strict definition of the word.”

 

“I don’t understand,” the young man said in bewilderment and Kathryn reached out to take his trembling hand.

 

“The human-form Cylons are in effect just a human variant,” she explained gently. “A synthetic, technologically produced variant to be sure, but at the core of their biological side is simple _human_ DNA with some technological tweaks. And since it was Sharon Valerii's _biological_ side that got together with your biological side," she quipped with a teasing chuckle, "your child is technically a genetically augmented human being with just a few blank nanoprobes in her blood stream. Program those nanoprobes or inject her with Cylon-programmed nanoprobes, and they will start laying down the silicate pathways throughout her nervous system that will make her receptive to Cylon programming--she will become a bio-mechanoid Cylon, but the pathways must be laid down within the next two years for that to happen. But remove those nanoprobes and she’s just another human baby.”

 

“And Sharon?” he asked hopefully.

 

#

 

Sharon Valerii came awake all at once. With consciousness came that horrible feeling of flying apart at the seams. The light was bright, searing her retinas; her mind exploded forcing her to cry out in pain and confusion.

 

"Computer, lower light levels in sickbay by fifty percent," said a gentle male voice. “Is that better?” he asked and she opened her eyes again. As her blurry vision cleared and she blinked the tears away, she looked up into the kind face of a balding middle-aged man wearing a black jacket with blue shoulders.

 

“Yes,” she replied hoarsely. A wave of nausea washed over her as she tried to rise. The strange room with its sleek--almost sterile--technology came into focus as the man tried to hold her down. “What happened? Where am I?” she demanded as fear mixed with the nausea.

 

“Please lay back, Ms Valerii,” the man insisted, pushing her back onto the bed. “My name is Victor and I’m going to be your doctor from now on. You need to rest and we’ll explain everything. As for where you are … you are in the sickbay of the _USS Voyager_ , a ship in the Starfleet of the people you would, I guess, call the Thirteenth Tribe,” he said smiling as she gaped at him in mute shock, “Greetings.”

 

Turning her head to the right, she saw for the first time, Admiral Adama, President Roslin, Dr. Cottle and Helo, standing next to a petite woman wearing a similar uniform to the strange doctor.

 

“It’s true Sharon,” Helo said softly; there were tears and love in his eyes.

 

She steeled her heart against those eyes and turned from his smiling face to hold the strange woman’s gaze.

 

“I’m Captain Kathryn Janeway, Ms Valerii,” she said in a husky, but well modulated voice. “I command _Voyager_. This is my chief medical officer, Dr. Victor Zimmerman and his assistant, Lieutenant Samantha Wildman,” she explained introducing a blonde woman who handed the doctor a strange instrument.

 

The doctor held up the instrument for her to see. “This will take away the nausea you’re experiencing and relieve your headache,” he said, deftly pressing it against her neck. It hissed and she felt an almost instant relief as her headache faded to a dull throb and then dissipated.

 

“How did I get here, Captain Janeway?” Sharon asked at last; her voice felt rusty from disuse. “What am I doing here?”

 

“You’re here, Ms Valerii,” Janeway replied, “because Admiral Adama and President Roslin have decided to _give_ you a choice before we leave this area of space and the Cylons behind, and head to Earth.”

 

For an instant, Janeway’s invocation of Earth filled her with hope; then she met Laura Roslin’s steady gaze and it all came rushing back on a tide of bitterness and hopelessness.

 

“Yeah? What choice--airlock or firing squad?”

 

“The choice between joining the rest of the Cylons from the Colonial fleet currently incarcerated in my brig on the next planet that can support life,” Janeway said in a hard voice that compelled Sharon to meet the woman’s dangerous blue eyes, “or joining Lieutenant Agathon and your daughter here on _Voyager_.”

 

Suddenly, it was as if the universe stopped … it was as if she’d forgotten how to breathe as she saw the blonde nurse walk over to Helo and hand him a small bundle. Sharon struggled to raise herself up as Helo walked towards her; Janeway’s doctor helped her to sit up. Her body shook uncontrollably and she was helpless to stop it. Her heart constricted painfully as tears flowed down her face; she bit the back of her knuckles to keep from screaming … to keep from hoping as Helo showed her the angelic little face, with its tiny rosebud mouth and chubby pink cheeks framed by locks of long chestnut hair.

 

“Hera?” she croaked.

 

“Yes,” Helo replied; tears streamed down his face also. “Her foster mother called her Isis, but she is Hera … our Hera.”

 

“But I saw her, she was dead!” Sharon wailed, not daring to touch the little sleeping form as Helo held it out to her.

 

“We did show you a dead child, but it wasn’t Hera,” Roslin said softly. “We couldn’t afford to let the Cylons know--to let _any_ Cylon know--that your child survived,” she continued, holding Sharon’s tear-filled gaze and suddenly it all made horrible, logical sense. “I regret causing you and Helo that pain after all you did for us … for me … but I don’t regret making that choice. It was the only way to protect her and I would do it again.”

 

A sudden overwhelming hatred flooded Sharon, roared up from the depths of her being; she wanted to scream … she wanted to fly off the bed and throttle that calm, unreadable expression from Roslin’s face. The implacable, all knowing and all seeing goddess stood there, wrapped in her mantle of power, bending mere mortals to her will and Sharon _hated_ her. Then almost as suddenly as it rose, all the rage and hatred and bitterness flowed away like the tide when Helo placed Hera in her arms and she saw Laura Roslin for what she really was. Human.

 

 _Human_. The species--the very _word_ had once been an indictment of everything that was wrong with the universe … still was for her Cylon brothers and sisters. And it pierced Sharon’s heart now as it had so many times before, the knowledge that though she longed to be human, she would never be human. Sharon looked down at her baby, stroking the beautiful little face with reverence and awe.

 

“Why?” she croaked. “Why give her back to me now? You’ll never consider me anything but a _Cylon_. A machine. No human but Helo will ever accept me as anything else.”

 

“In my society--the United Federation of Planets--we have a saying,” Janeway said gently. “Human is as human does, Ms Valerii,” she said to Sharon’s shock. “Colonial society may not be ready for what you, Mr. Agathon, and your baby may represent, but Federation society has come a long way.” She turned to her doctor; a silent question passed between them and he nodded, giving his consent. Janeway tapped a small device on the doctor’s sleeve and the man winked out of existence.

 

Sharon gaped at her and the tiny device she held in her hand. “As you can see,” Janeway said smiling, “Victor is a completely artificial, _cybernetic_ construct--in this case, a hologram, but he is considered an autonomous, sentient being. He is my doctor, my confidant and my friend.” She manipulated the device again and the holographic man re-appeared. Attaching the device to his sleeve once more, she continued, “As you get to know my crew, you’ll find that although the majority are human, there are a significant number of aliens among them, as well as human-alien hybrids. For us, Ms Valerii, you, Mr. Agathon, Hera and all you represent--it's all par for the course.”

 

Sharon felt the breathlessness return as she absorbed the Federation captain’s words. It took her a moment to recognise what it was … hope.

 

#

 

“So just like that, I’m no longer a mother.”

 

Maya’s bitter words speared Laura through the heart. The young woman faced away from her, studying Sharon and Helo, through the glass of Victor’s office, as the new parents marvelled at their little girl. _Voyager’s_ doctor and medical staff bustled around the sickbay getting ready for Sharon’s procedure to erase her Cylon programming and shut down the attendant hardware if it couldn’t be removed.

 

Janeway had barely managed to get her proposal out before Valerii had agreed, heedless of the slight, but still significant danger of death or brain damage. Her immediate answer had been, “Whatever it takes.” She’d conquered much of the original programming and managed to stay off-line to the Cylons even in the depths of despair when it had been most tempting, but she wanted that temptation gone. Even the knowledge that the removal of her nanoprobes would probably shorten her lifespan, and that her consciousness would never be resurrected and downloaded into another body, had not deterred her.

 

 _“Whatever it takes, Captain Janeway,”_ she’d said not taking her eyes from her baby, _“and the Cylons wouldn’t download my consciousness again even if it did find its way back to them after I died. The best I could hope for would be boxing--a living death. No, however long I have, it will be worth it. I don’t want there to be any chance that I could ever hurt her.”_

 

“Just like that, a _Cylon_ becomes a mother and I become nothing.”

 

“I’m sorry, Maya,” Laura replied. “It was never my intention to hurt you when I asked you to take the baby.”

 

“Does it matter?” the young woman said turning to face her. Her mouth twisted in anger, making her look far older than she was. “Would you have cared? You made me wet-nurse to a _Cylon_!”

 

Laura Roslin had no answers for her. In all honesty, when she and Cottle had made their plans, she’d never even considered Maya finding out--and certainly never foresaw that they would give the baby back to Sharon under any circumstances.

 

“Is that how you think of her?” Cottle asked breaking the silence. “Is that all you think of Isis?”

 

“It’s the only way I can think of her now!” Maya spat bitterly, stoming from the doctor’s office and out of the sickbay. Lieutenant Ayala from _Voyager’s_ security followed her out.

 

#

 


	16. So Say We All!

Tom Zarek studied the crowd as they listened to Adama’s address to the Fleet over the wireless. All around _Cloud Nine’s_ bar, the people listened with patent disbelief on their faces as the admiral explained how _Voyager_ had found the Cylon infiltrators and used their--frankly magical--transporters to excise the homicidal machines from the fleet. He’d also explained about Baltar’s role as a collaborator and that the former Vice President would be held on _Voyager_ until his level of culpability could be determined.

 

“According to _Voyager’s_ sensors,” Adama continued, “the Cylons are still looking for us and drawing closer. Right now they there are two basestars in a system fifteen light years away, and a third in another system approximately twenty-seven light years away, apparently searching for us and their missing ships. We are keeping a very close eye on the situation, and in two hours, all ships’ captains will be updated on alternate emergency jump coordinates. All ships have also received some maintenance of their jump engines and tylium refuelling from the refinery ships should conclude within the next eight hours.

 

“However, I plan to keep the fleet here for the next forty-eight hours barring any Cylon incursions. Captain Janeway has generously agreed to a quick upgrade of _Galactica_ and _Pagasus’_ guns and ammunition to give us a bit more … _punch_ ,” he said with a quiet satisfaction. “They will also be upgrading our Vipers. Once that’s done, we will jump to new coordinates provided by Captain Janeway. _Voyager_ , using her own propulsion systems, will join us there five days later and from there, we will chart the best course Earth.”

 

_“You’re lucky.”_

 

Zarek returned his attention to his companion. “I beg your pardon?” he said and Thea Cole smiled thinly.

 

“I said, you’re lucky,” the young priestess repeated, swirling her glass of Caprica Gold Ambrosia idly. “Lucky that a few more people listened to Roslin and Wally Gray than to you and Baltar--can you imagine what would have happened if we’d settled on that rock you two dubbed New Caprica and the Cylons had found us again?”

 

He gave her a sour look, wondering where he’d gotten the idea that she would be good to talk to; perhaps it had just been his abhorrence of drinking alone. “Perhaps they wouldn’t have found us,” he said. “The cloud’s radiation would have been a natural shield.”

 

“You don’t really believe that,” she said shrewdly. “It’s been an interesting week, don’t you think?” She changed the subject again with smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ve been wondering how the people are taking this turn of events--as a priest, I would have to say they’re almost Scriptural … Pythian perhaps, the way Roslin has led us into the bosom of our brethren from the Thirteenth Tribe, and the way she, and to some extent Adama, have so smoothly handed off the mantle of leading our Caravan to _Voyager’s_ captain.”

 

He stared at her for a moment, lost in surprise; he’d ceased to give any thought to the old prophecy months ago after their return from Kobol.

 

“Well, Roslin can hardly claim to be Pythia’s dying _Leader_ when she didn’t die,” he said cynically, “and whatever else Janeway may be, I hardly doubt she can claim to be “the child from the bitter seas”, to quote Pythia’s second Prophecy of the Cycle.”

 

Thea Cole laughed and this time the humour did reach her eyes. “Funny that, Tom,” she said. “Layne Ishay, one of _Galactica’s_ medics, is a friend of mine, and according to her, Laura Roslin really did die the day Baltar shot her up with the cure. She was clinically dead for about two minutes before her heart restarted. So in a way, it could be argued that she did fulfill Pythia’s first Prophecy and die, and if you look at the oldest copies of the ancient Scrolls, it says that “the Leader would _die before entering the Promised Land_ ”, not that _she would not live to enter_ as some modern interpretations put it. And Pythia never said anything about her staying dead.”

 

A sudden murmured “that’s right” startled Tom Zarek badly; he hadn’t realised that their conversation had attracted a small crowd in which he could see a few of _Voyager’s_ distinctive uniforms. The Federation officers looked on with polite interest.

 

“I think that interpretation takes splitting religious hairs to new heights,” he scoffed in an effort to lighten the mood and deflect attention from idea that Roslin might still be the leader of ancient prophecy.

 

“Not really,” Cole continued. “In many ways, religion has always been about interpretation. Take the second Prophecy you quoted; the original text says that it is “an _Innocent_ from bitter seas” who would take the mantle from the Honoured Leader”, but again most people substitute “child” for “innocent” when studying that part of the Scriptures.”

 

“Next you’ll be telling us that the “Innocent” is meant to be the hybrid Cylon child of Agathon and Valerii,” Zarek said angrily, “because, again I doubt Janeway would have reached the rank of Captain by being an _innocent_.”

 

“Well, the Agathon child is as good an interpretation as any--I can think of no more “bitter sea” than a Cylon’s womb,” Cole said quietly into the stillness that had enveloped the bar at Zarek’s angry words.

 

_“Ma’am?”_

 

This time Cole was as surprised as Zarek by the intrusion into their conversation. Zarek glanced at the Federation officer who had spoken and immediately recognised _Voyager’s_ lead pilot, Lieutenant Commander Tom Paris.

 

“Tom Paris, Priestess Cole,” he said by way of introduction. “I couldn’t help but hear your conversation with Mr. Zarek, Ma’am. Exactly what is this prophecy that you’re referring to?”

 

“It is part of our Scriptures, Mr. Paris,” Cole replied, “given to us by a prophet who lived over three thousand years ago and tells of the rise of a Leader at the end of the world, who would lead a Caravan of the Thirteen Tribes across the stars to the Promised Land, the world of the Thirteenth Tribe, Earth. It also predicted that the Leader would die of a wasting disease before entering the Promised Land. Pythia’s second Prophecy tells of an Innocent who would take the mantle of leadership from the original leader and guide the people to their new home in the Promised Land.”

 

Paris looked at her curiously. “Exactly what is the original text of that second Prophecy, Ma’am?”

 

Cole studied him for a long moment before speaking. “And with the turning of the Great Wheel, the mantle shall pass from the Honoured One. And burdened by the weight of light from fifty thousand stars, an Innocent from bitter seas will shoulder another burden of lives and guide the Caravan of the Thirteen Tribes of Kobol across the Bridge of Light and Time, flying colours into the Promised Land.”

 

The young man looked absolutely floored and an uncomfortable suspicion rose in Zarek's mind. "This means something to you, Commander Paris?" he said.

 

"It might," Paris said thoughtfully. "Thank you, Priestess Cole. I should get back to _Voyager_."

 

He was about to walk away, but Zarek caught him by the arm. "What is this about?" he demanded. "If it has something to do with our Prophecy, then my people have the right to know."

 

Paris ignored him and turned back to Cole. "Would you be willing to explain this prophecy to Captain Janeway, Ma'am?"

 

"Of course," Cole said clearly intrigued; a light dawned in her eyes. "Oh my Gods," she breathed. "My Gods … you know what this part of the Prophecy means!"

 

#

 

Adama glanced from Cole's shining face to Tom Paris' pensive one as the twelve deligates hustled into the Quorum meeting room; there were a couple of new faces in the crowd. Vice President Wallace Gray hurried in last, just ahead of Janeway, Chakotay and Tuvok.

 

As Paris hurried over to his superior offices, Adama turned his attention back to Laura and Thea Cole.

 

"Did he say that he knew what it meant?" Laura persisted.

 

"No," Cole replied. "But I know people … I know how to read people and the moment I recited that passage from the Scriptures, I could see that Paris knew exactly what it meant. Please, Madam President, just call the meeting to order and follow my lead--trust me."

 

Laura nodded and with as little ceremony as possible, stepped up to the podium, called the meeting of the Quorum into session and then motioned for Cole to join her. "At this time, I'd like to turn the floor over to Priestess Thea Cole," she said and stepped back.

 

Janeway stopped talking to Paris, but Adama could see the unhappy look she shot at the young man; the Federation captain was seriously annoyed with her chief helmsman.

 

“The reason I asked President Roslin for this emergency meeting concerns the Book of Pythia and the Prophecies of the Eternal Cycle detailed within,” Cole began. “Today, Representative Zarek and I were debating aspects of Pythia’s first Prophecy; namely, Mr. Zarek held the view that as Ms Roslin did not die from cancer, her role as the Leader was in doubt--”

 

There was a lot of head-nodding and murmuring from the representatives and Adama watched as Zarek’s lips thinned with disapproval.

 

“However, I pointed out to Mr. Zarek,” she continued, “that according to the medical record, Ms Roslin did technically fulfill the Prophecy.” Cole smiled at Roslin’s flabbergasted expression. “According to Dr. Cottle, Ms Roslin experienced nearly two minutes of clinical death before her heart restarted and as I further pointed out to Representative Zarek, the original text of the Prophecy said that “the Honoured Leader would die before entering the Promised Land”, not that “she would not live to enter” and Pythia never said anything about her staying dead.”

 

Adama fought the urge to laugh at this novel interpretation of the Scriptures and settled for a wide smile as he met Janeway’s bright smile and twinkling eyes, but Laura stood looking even more dumbfounded.

 

“However, it was our argument over Pythia’s second Prophecy regarding the successor to the Honoured Leader, which drew the attention of _Voyager’s_ Lieutenant Commander Thomas Eugene Paris,” she continued, this time surprising even Adama. “And from Commander Paris’ reaction, it led me to believe that he knows what that most intriguing and most studied Prophecy means.”

 

“He knows who the Child is?” Michael Liros, the new Representative for Gemenon said in an excited voice as his fellow representatives turned their attention to Paris.

 

“No,” Cole replied to their utter confusion. “I believe he knows who the _Innocent_ is. Commander Paris asked me for the original text of the Prophecy, which states, “and with the turning of the Great Wheel, the mantle shall pass from the Honoured One. And burdened by the weight of light from fifty thousand stars, an Innocent from bitter seas will shoulder another burden of lives and guide the Caravan of the Thirteen Tribes of Kobol across the Bridge of Light and Time, flying colours into the Promised Land.”

 

“Commader Paris,” she said turning to the Federation officer standing with his now serious-faced captain. “You believe as I do, that the mantle has been passed to this second leader, Captain Janeway--” The sudden collective gasp seemed to suck the air out of the room and Janeway regarded the priestess with an expression of utter disbelief. “And furthermore, Mr. Paris, you know what the words of the Prophecy mean, don’t you.”

 

Paris closed his eyes for a moment, but on opening them again, he smiled roguishly. “Yes ma’am, I believe I do.” Turning to Janeway, he gave her a contrite look. “Sorry Captain,” he said and walked over to the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, my wife will probably tear me limb from limb for this, but a couple of days ago, I found out that she is pregnant with our second child.”

 

“Congratulations, Commander Paris,” Laura said smiling.

 

“Thank you, Madam President,” he replied. “Anyway, since then I’ve been going ga-ga over baby names--just ask my friends,” he chuckled as the room laughed with him. “But it was the name of my three-year-old daughter that led to my recent epiphany in the _Cloud Nine_ bar--not my first epiphany in a bar, mind you--”

 

“ _Paris_ …” Janeway warned.

 

“Uh, yes ma’am,” he said and Adama couldn’t help chuckling. “You see, fairly early on, we decided to name our daughter Miral, after her maternal grandmother, but didn’t choose a middle name for her until after she was born. It's sort of a tradition where I come from that first names tend to honour family, while middle names will often honour someone important to the child’s parents, and in our daughter’s case, we chose Kathryn,” he said gently as he held his captain’s gaze. “But like most people from Earth, and I suspect the Twelve Colonies, I’d forgotten that in ancient tradition, names have meanings. A few days ago, I downloaded a baby name book from our archives--and like I said, I went a bit ga-ga looking up all my friends’ names. Now, I’ve always known that Miral meant “Leader of Warriors” in my wife’s cultural tradition, but I also have to admit that I didn’t know what Kathryn meant in my own tradition, so I looked it up; it means _innocent, pure_.”

 

Again, utter silence blanketed the room.

 

“But that could be simple coincidence,” Zarek said, breaking the silence at last.

 

Paris’ wide grin was almost predatory. “I admit that it could be,” he said, “and had Priestess Cole simply called your second prophesised leader “the Innocent”, I probably wouldn’t have made the connection to the ancient meaning of Kathryn, but she called the leader “the Innocent from bitter seas”. And like I got saddled with Thomas Eugene Paris--after my paternal grandfather and my dad’s best friend--and in turn saddled my own daughter with Miral Kathryn Paris, Captain Janeway got saddled with her own tribute name. Captain, would you tell them what your full name is?”

 

Janeway looked absolutely stunned. “Kathryn Marie Janeway,” she said hoarsely, “after my two grandmothers, Siobahn Kathryn Janeway and Marie-Jeanne Eisner.”

 

“And Marie means, Mr. Paris?” Cole called out as everyone gazed at Janeway’s small form.

 

“Marie means "bitter sea",” Paris replied and again there was silence. “Furthermore, I looked up the name Laura, which is an early form of the more ancient name, Laurel--”

 

“And it means?” Adama was the one to ask this time.

 

“Laura means "honour or honoured one", sir,” Paris said grinning as Laura gaped in disbelief. “Wreaths of leaves made from the bay-laurel tree were used in ancient times to crown great leaders, warriors and athletes at the ancient Pythian and Olympic games on Earth. A wreath of laurel leaves came to represent honour and integrity. As for the rest of the Prophecy, “burdened by the weight of light from fifty thousand stars”--as you know, _Voyager_ was thrown seventy thousand light years from Earth. In the last ten years, Captain Janeway has brought us approximately _fifty thousand_ light years across the galaxy to this area. I think that the wording of the Prophecy might have been an ancient’s way of dealing with the concept of a light year.”

 

“And though many scholars have thought that the “Caravan of _Thirteen_ Tribes” was a mistake in transcription of Pythia’s original prophecy,” Thea Cole said, “with humans from Earth on board _Voyager_ , we have indeed become a caravan of all Thirteen Tribes of Humanity.”

 

“Yes ma’am,” Paris replied.

 

“And so the “Bridge of Light and Time” would be the interplexing flecture that leads to Earth,” Adama said.

 

“To the alpha quadrant, yes sir,” Paris said with a wide grin, "while the phrase "flying colours" is an old Earth naval or military term for success, referring to the coloured banners a ship or army would fly when they returned home victorious."

 

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Quorum, People of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol," Thea Cole said in a loud voice as held her hand out to a pale and thoroughly shocked Janeway. "I give you Pythia's Second Leader, Captain Kathryn Janeway, the Innocent from bitter seas who will lead us across the Bridge of Light and Time, flying colours into the Promised Land!"

 

"So say we all!" Laura and William shouted in unison.

 

"SO SAY WE ALL!" the People crowding the ships, listening to Cole's live broadcast, roared back in jubilation.

 

The End

 


End file.
